


Ashen Wake

by Nameless_Knight



Series: Flame Seeking Fate [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Eagles Students, Blood, Blue Lions Students - Freeform, Byleth Raised in the Church, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Golden Deer Students - Freeform, Male My Unit | Byleth, POV Multiple, Spoilers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 76,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nameless_Knight/pseuds/Nameless_Knight
Summary: Miracles do happen.(Sequel to Broken Blade.)  Jeralt had stayed at Garreg Mach Monastery rather than fleeing after the fire twenty years ago.  Byleth was raised within the embrace of the church, his knowledge and form molded by a new upbringing.  "My name is Sothis," the girl inside his head said.  And he could not help the surprise at hearing the goddess's name.  White Clouds narrative story.
Series: Flame Seeking Fate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631038
Comments: 96
Kudos: 102





	1. Dawn in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is a sequel to my previous Fire Emblem fanfiction called Broken Blade. I highly recommend you read it first since, well, this is a sequel and things will probably get a bit confusing with canon divergence otherwise.

**Great Tree Moon 20, Imperial Year 1180**

The war.

In darkness and rain and mud the two sides unleashed screams of rancor and crashed against one another in an enormous melee. Knights and soldiers in solid armor, trimmed red like the Empire. The other half-clothed in bits of chain and leather and scale but with an unmatched ferocity. Ferocity that could not overcome the protection of their foe. Blows glanced aside on the plate armor while lances and swords struck the exposures of the unarmored. Pegasus knights swooped down from above and the horde's raw power faltered.

Then he came.

The old man. Hair long and wild, beard long and grey. Eyes like ash, filled with nothing but contempt for all that he saw. He leapt into battle, his trunk-like arms and legs propelling him through the sky and in one mighty strike he carved apart a circle of carnage in the armored lines. His sword, serrated on both edges, with wings for a guard and a crest stone within, glowing red with unfathomable power.

The soldiers with armor rallied around a warcry and charged at him. Their goal to land a blow on a man untouched by war. His exposed skin lacked even a single scar. With ease his blade cut through their charge and a bloody mess followed. The Crest of Flames contorting on his cloak as it billowed in the wind.

Across the battlefield red light arose as others with Heroes' Relics unleashed their divine power. A mortal savant slashed through a dozen foes with one swing of Thunderbrand. A falcon knight blocked a hundred arrows with her Aegis Shield. A great knight in thick armor used a lance with spikes jutting from it to tear pegasus knights from the sky. A holy knight charged throughout battle with a curved lance. The 10 Elites of old and the havoc they unleashed could not be stopped.

As the armored knights were driven back they rallied around the woman. Dying in droves while she did not spare a glance.

"Lady Seiros…"

The namesake of the Holy Church of Seiros. First among saints, daughter of the goddess and vanquisher of fallen heroes..

Her sword flashed. Silver-white and thin, a waved edge, the Crest of Seiros emblazoned on the fuller near the guard. The Sword of Seiros.

With three strikes she killed three foes. Not once her light green eyes paying attention to the dead and dying. Her hardened stare directed solely at one. At Nemesis.

Her hair, long light green and braided back; bangs kept from her eyes by a mighty golden circlet large enough to cover her whole forehead, that bore wings like the Immaculate One, the great protector of the church. Lilies of white hung from her hair, where her ears would be had they been visible. Her armor was thin but protected what it needed. Her cloak as white as clean sheets, even in the rain and muck. Her shield: a disc silver, reflective like a mirror, with her Crest adorning its center.

She ran at Nemesis. Blood and mud splashing her, besmirching a saint. Fury and hate fueling her combat. Thin arms that should not match even one of Nemesis's instead fought the man evenly. The Sword of Seiros matched the Sword of the Creator blow for blow. Her speed surpassing his and soon the man was on the defensive. He retreated - the first retreat of his life and a whip of the sword shattered the ground between the duel. Time earned, space earned.

Again he lashed out, his sword now a whip. His sword, the Sword of the Creator struck so close that a cut of blood now graced Saint Seiros's stomach. He lashed twice more and twice more she dodged and so he struck with a thrust. The saint was ready, and her blade entangled her foe's and she hurled them aside.

The sudden action deprived both of their weapons and Saint Seiros rushed in. With incredible speed she delivered a palm to his chin. Unbalanced the King of Liberation was prey to a flurry of blows that sent him toppling. The saint dropped a knee, pummeled him more as he mustered no resistance. A third his size and she'd crushed him effortlessly.

"Tell me, Nemesis." Saint Seiros drew a small dagger. "Do you recall the Red Canyon?" Zanado. The King of Liberation's eyes went wide with fear at the name of a sacred location to the Church of Seiros. "You'll die your that!" Her dagger came down. "Die! Die! Die!" Each use of "Die" punctuated with a stab to a dead man. And a hundred more until he was nothing but blood soaking the ground. "You took... everything that I loved." Words said to something not even a corpse anymore.

The rain broke, the clouds parted and the light of dawn illuminated her and the Imperial army. Cheers of victory rang loud and high. The saint's bloodstained hands gripped the fallen Sword of the Creator and cradled it to her cheek. "He's gone now, Mother…" Bloodstained, drenched in mud, sweat and rain. No concern for dignity as she embraced the bloodied blade.

* * *

A tower of stone wrapped in vines.

A fleet of ships across the sea.

Buildings so tall and wide a dozen demonic beasts could enter side-by-side.

Stone and metal of darkness and lines of blue that glowed.

* * *

The girl on her throne. Stone stairs beneath his feet he walked upwards. The stone slabs of the platform and railing surrounding him when he stood on equal ground. She sat, sleeping as ever on that stone throne. The seat twice her size with a backing that extended into the darkness that surrounded them. She stirred in her eternal slumber.

A girl — a child half his height. Pointed ears. Hair enormous and green, longer than she was tall. Parts of hair pulled forward over her shoulders and braided with ribbons of pink and white. A headdress of gold atop her head, beads linking around. Metalwork like hearts adorning the ridge. Dark tassels hanging from them. Familiar shapes.

Her clothes were beyond sense. Stripes of dark cloth that covered half her body, tied together with ribbons of pink and white and cords of gold. Connected together to her stomach in a plate of gold. Another heart, and an emblem of the Crest of Flames etched into it.

She stirred.

She moved.

_Her eyes opened_.

Drowsy, she rubbed those clear green eyes and a yawn broke the silence. First upon first upon first. "Oh my." Her voice echoed in the empty chamber. "What could've brought you here?" Sweet, confused, curious.

She yawned again, her eyes still half-open. "I wonder how you got here…" A question he'd wondered all his life. "It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose. Most rude indeed. Now come to me. I wish to have a look at you."

He stepped forward. By his own choice or not. The pale green light that had so long illuminated the girl and her throne now revealed himself. And he saw himself through eyes not his own. His dark teal hair, cut above eyes in front, long in back; ears covered. Blue eyes and a face that never moved. His long, white coat, a cut made above the elbow sleeves to let his arms through. Light plate at his shoulders, joints and forelimbs. The protective sash at his waist and the small dagger that hung off his belt. The thick pale grey linens warming him beneath his armor and the tough dark gray of his gloves and boots.

"Hmmm… I've not seen the likes of you before. What are you, anyway?"

_Kid doesn't make a sound. It's like he's a ghost._

_His face, it doesn't ever move. Even when he's killing. It's like he's a heartless demon._

"A human."

"I see." The girl relaxed in her seat. Bracing her chin with a wrist. "Then you must have a name of sorts. Go on."

_Is that the Ashen Demon…?_

"Byleth."

"Huh. I shall not ever grow accustomed to the sound of human names." She was smiling now. "You must possess a day of birth as well. Beneath which moon and on what day were you born into this world?"

"Guardian Moon One."

"Well, will wonders never cease! It seems we share our day of birth. How strange!" Why was the girl surprised about that? They were born together. "Hmmm. It all feels so familiar." _You slept inside someone's head before?_ "I think it may be time for another nap…"

"It is almost time… to begin…"

Begin what?

* * *

And he remembered.

Byleth woke in a small wooden room of Remire Village.

And for the first time in his life he remembered what he dreamt. The war. Saint Seiros. Seiros. And Nemesis, the King of Liberation. The Heroes' Relics. Familiar and assumed. The War of Heroes from a thousand years past.

Flashes of nothings in between. Yet unlike anything he'd ever seen.

The girl with no name. For the first time she spoke. Was that why he remembered? Why had she finally broken her silence?

He put on his gear. The clothes he wore to sleep were not what he wore in his dream. How had the eyes within perceived him as such?

He walked the hall to Jeralt's room. His father was already fully armed and ready for their return to Garreg Mach Monastery today. His pauldrons, his chainmail, in white. His lance of silver resting nearby that had been pointed at him often. Worry creased the three-scarred face of his father. The shaved sides of his head furrowing about ears while the peak of brown-blonde swayed with his concern down to the small braid running down his back. "Something the matter?" Jeralt asked. His jaw with beard clenched with beard, his brown eyes steeled.

"The girl… talked." The girl without a name after all the years. Her questions did not allow ones of his own.

Jeralt blinked at his words. "What did she say?" He was guarded, but anxious. Worried. More than that: Defensive.

_No_. "I... can't remember." He lied to Jeralt for the second time in his life. Averted looking at him. "And the war. There was a woman." _Seiros_. The patron saint of their church. "And a man." Nemesis. The King of Liberation. The great hero of the goddess who turned against her teachings and fell to evil. "And Heroes' Relics?" Thunderbrand, Aegis Shield. Either the Lance of Ruin, or Lúin, or Areadbhar. And the Sword of the Creator itself.

"You need to stop reading the books of Seiros before bed."

No. That was not it. There was not a shade of remembrance before. Had the girl awakening truly caused this? "I saw Thunderbrand." Charon. Cassandra. "And Aegis Shield." Fraldarius. Glenn. "And the lances." Gautier, Daphnel or Blaiddyd.

Jeralt frowned further. He knew more. But he wasn't answering. "What did they look like?"

The door was flung inside violently as Seth rushed in. "Jeralt, sir! We've got trouble out front!"

Jeralt scowled at the interruption. "Let's get going." All business.

They rushed out in the slight light of dawn. The Broken Blade readied at the village entrance. Remire militia ready with the weapons trained with years ago. With them were two boys and a girl. Each wore the uniform of the Officers Academy. Each heavily altered. What were students doing so far from Garreg Mach this early in the school year?

"Knights of Seiros, what luck!" said the boy in the middle. Shining blonde hair, styled just so that it curved away from his bright blue eyes. Enthusiasm and relief mixing on his face. Straight-laced, yet eager. Subtle movements of his fingers and hands indicated more than his words alone. A half-cape in royal blue draped over his left shoulder, kept tight by a sash across his torso in the same color. The usual gold trim of the Academy's uniforms replaced with a rarer silver, while black remained the base. Armor was over his uniform jacket, black in color; spaulders, gauntlets, greaves and boots in all. A lance at his side and sword attached not to a belt, but a sash. "We require your aid, good sirs."

"What's the matter?" Jeralt asked, scrutinizing them himself.

"Our camp nearby was attacked by bandits," said the boy on the left. A darker skin tone. A different texture. Not akin to Cassadra's sun-touched skin. More akin to Brigid, Duscur, or Almyrans. His hair was a dark brown of wild spikes and well-cared for. With a thin braid coming down over his right-side ear. On his left ear was a gold earring, a loop with five more rings hanging off it. A slight smile was still on his lips despite the circumstances. His jade eyes half closed but all at attention. He leaned back despite circumstances, hand on his hip, golden cape dangling off it. His jacket was opened to his chest, a golden undershirt peeking out through, and the jacket tail expanded so far as to be a long coat. His pants were baggier but his boots were nearly fully hidden against his gear. A quiver hung off his back and a bow struck out from behind, the cleartell calluses of an archer on his fingers. "We managed to give them the slip, but they're right on our tail."

"Where's your escort?" Alois or Reo had to be handling student arrival. Neither should be this careless.

"Dealing with the bulk of the group," said the girl on the right. Noticeably short, yet the slight dip in her head, back craned straight and hand at her hip spoke of confidence in bulk. Ax in hand and white gloves gripping it. Over her tight jacket she wore a white ascot; below the jacket was not the skirt common to ladies of the academy but instead the narrowest slit of a pair of shorts. Beneath those: bright red leggings covered her down to her heeled black boots. Her hair was white-silver, long past her cape, kept out of her face by two purple ribbons that tied above her ears. And those eyes. A clear icy violet.

He knew those eyes. How did he know those eyes?

"Why'd you run instead of standing your ground?" Jeralt freed Byleth from his confusion with that ask.

"Well," said the student from the Golden Deer, "with the darkness and confusion going on I thought it better to get my bearings away from all the fighting."

"And we followed when they broke off to pursue him," added the student from the Blue Lions.

"Do you have a head count on the bandits?" asked Jeralt.

"My best estimate was thirty following us," said the student from the Black Eagles "None of them equipped for indirect combat." This wasn't going to be a difficult fight.

Jeralt pondered the obvious for a moment, then faced him. "All right kid, take point. Leave some bandits up so the students can get a swing in." He looked back at the students. "You three follow in behind him. The Broken Blade and I will cover the flanks and rear so nothing gets the drop on you, or gets into the village." Byleth stepped past them on command.

"You're asking us to fight?" said the Golden Deer.

"You didn't come to the Officers Academy to avoid fights, did you? Think of it as your first unofficial mission." Like with the Dagda and Brigid War.

The student laughed. "So our first official mission will be heading back to Garreg Mach then?"

"This is no laughing matter, Claude," said the Blue Lion, naming the Golden Deer. "Captain Jeralt," one of the Broken Blade must have named him before they arrived, "is it wise to have your son take the vanguard alone?" It was wiser for Byleth to do it alone.

"He's more than capable. If things go badly I'll ride right in." That wouldn't be necessary.

Black Eagle turned her eyes on him. "You have a strange aura about you. I look forward to seeing you in action." Seeing with those eyes.

"I profess my most sincere thanks for your assistance," said Blue Lion.

"Yeah! You guys have really bailed us out of this mess," said Claude.

"Get going, kid."

Byleth drew his iron sword. Behind him the shuffle as the students and Broken Blade arranged themselves to command.

Past the bridge, past the river across even ground the bandits came. Dark clothes in the darkness, a few torches from the central watchtower bringing them into light. Their clothes were ill-kept, their skin filthy and looks mean. Axes for all of them, each chipped and dented. Poor quality foe with poor quality weapons. If they all held such a standard he could finish it on his own.

But orders were orders.

He took a breath. Took in all that he saw. Jerlat would handle the flanks, they had to focus on the front. Four advancing fast in front, in full view of the watch tower's torches. To the right, in the brush were two more. The ground was dirt, all the way around. Mostly even. Packed hard by constant foot traffic. Patches of overgrowth dominated the left path, sight beyond it was limited. To the right side he could still see through the watchtower's fence. That would be their path.

A voice boomed in the distance and shadows of more slid around the far side of the tower and fence. Reinforcements. The sooner he took care of their vanguard the better. From still to full he ran towards the first bandit. Eager and arrogant, the bandit grinned. He raised his axe but Byleth's sword was utterly faster and one stab to the man's arm dropped the weapon. A second cut across his chest forced him back while Byleth came about the side and finished with a third strike to his neck. The man fell to the ground, still glowering in arrogance despite death.

The three bandits nearby moved in to exact revenge. Byleth maneuvered them around the center brushes. With more quick slashes he struck their legs, wrists and sides. Slowing them for the students to handle. He moved afield, closer to the watchtower and evaluated the students' actions.

Claude's arrows were first. A shot to the side followed by another to the chest. Injured as his target was, it should have only required one. The Blue Lion followed in next, batting aside the swing of his foe and burying his lance into the man far enough that his hands touched the dead. In any other situation he would have lost that weapon, but he pried it free with no contention. The Black Eagle girl moved in last, overpowering her foe with his bleeding wrists and finishing him with a single chop at his neck. Adequate, but she moved off without confirming that he was dead.

Byleth continued his advance, drawing in two more. Their teamwork managed to get in a hit. Nothing serious, but a mistake he shouldn't have made. He cut one down ferociously and eliminated the next in one stab. His wound healing itself with the surge of power. Crest power from whichever he had.

Beyond the watchtower the remaining bandits were gathering. Jeralt was taking the Broken Blade around for a flanking maneuver so Byleth picked up the pace. Fifteen remained, including a bulk of a man. With wild eyes and grey hair and posturing that emboldened the others. The leader.

He could wait. Another group of six rushed him and Byleth removed two more fighters from his enemies and sent three more fleeing. One attempted an attack which Byleth fended off and wounded in response. He left it to the girl while pointing the runners out to the Blue Lion and Claude.

The bandit leader roared some challenge and made his attack. Compensating for his lack of agility with savagery and power. His blows here heavy enough to shake arms but Byleth could carefully redirect it and avoid anything fatal. The man's enthusiasm paled as his breath expired and Byleth turned to offense. His speed slipping past the guard and striking five times as the man was put on the back foot. His ax grip loosened and Byleth knocked it out of his grip, stabbed him in the chest, and kicked him into the seven bandits still grouped together.

Another attempted a quick blindside but Byleth caught the ax shaft and elbowed the man in the stomach. He released his ax and ran before Byleth could cut him down. Byleth dropped the ax and pursued him, the fleeing bandit regrouping with another. The inevitable before them shook their resolve and the one ax was simple to parry. Both met their end shortly after.

Blue Lion and Claude had their foes dead around. Jeralt was coming in for his charge against the last and the Black Eagle was standing… without her ax? Lodged in the stomach of another bandit who'd wandered in too closely.

The bandit boss kicked himself up despite his wounds. He grabbed an ax from his underling and rushed at the girl. Bylth's feet already in a run to stop it but the bandit was closer by half even if slower. The girl drew a dagger and held her ground.

He burned all he could and just barely covered the girl in time for the ax to hit him instead of her.

Only it didn't.

The ax that should have torn into his back had stopped. The _world_ had stopped. The girl did not breath. Did not blink. Her hair did not move in the wind.

The void engulfed him.

"Honestly!" the girl on the throne yelled at him. From the shadows she and her throne emerged. The green light ensuring she was ever visible. "What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?!"

"She was in danger," he replied.

"And that is a reason to throw your own life away? It's like you're trying to get me killed, you fool!" A sharp and unfamiliar reprimand. She sighed, the depth of force shivering down her whole body. "Well, it's fine. After all, if you don't know the value of your own life, you're not going to protect it very well, are you?"

"I've survived the same before."

"Yet you persist in ensuring it happens again? Unacceptable. It falls to me to guide you from now on." She leapt from her throne. Bare feet on stone as she walked towards him. "You may call me Sothis… but I'm also known as 'The Beginning.'"

Sothis? His eyes went wide at the name of the goddess. Was this a coincidence as much as their day of birth?

"Sothis… yes, that is my name." Her hands rested on her face in thought. "Hmmm, it appears that name is familiar to you."

He could not stop. "The goddess…"

"A goddess?" Her tiny body fraught with surprise. "Why would a goddess reside within you? How could a goddess forget her own name?"

"How could one reside in the head of another?"

She crossed her arms with a look of indignation. "Such a thing would easily be within a goddess's power." She brought a look of superiority to her face. "Why, I have even stalled the flow of time."

"So, are you the goddess?" The goddess who should reside in the Blue Sea Star?

A sharp crack broke through his skull. That short look of victory torn from her face. "No… I… am The Beginning. But who once called me that…?" She shook her head in frustration. "No, no… The flow of time will bring us to the destination… but that is not now.."

Garreg Mach would have the answers. "Then, what now?"

"When time begins anew that ax will tear into your flesh, and you will surely meet your end. All just to save one young girl."

The supposed-goddess before him looked even younger than she.

Which she noticed. "Did you think of me as just some child? A mere child who forgot her name? Phooey! That 'child' just saved your life!"

_Manners_. "Thank you."

She grinned at the answer. "See, is gratitude too much to ask? Now, whatever shall we do with such a dark fate awaiting you?"

If time moved forward, he would die. They would die. Staying still saved life but did not progress it. What about backwards? Like… "Turn back the hands of time." The words left his mouth without further thought.

"Of course! I must turn back the hands of time!" Had she heard him? Or come to the conclusion on her own?

This was not the first time she'd done this. "Yes, I do believe it can be done. I cannot rewind it too far, but you will know what is to come and prevent it. Protect yourself. Yes, you who carries flame within. Carry that flame to whatever path you seek..."

_What?_

The void of mind was replaced with the face of the Black Eagle girl. Surprised. Still frozen. Backwards did his motions carry until he stood over the body of a familiar fallen foe. He bucked on his heel and ran towards Black Eagle before the bandit boss even rose. But he did, stealing ax once more and taking the same path to the same destination of the girl who would not relent even against a foe outside her range.

Byleth made it three steps sooner and disarmed him in a single movement. His crest flared and he sent another kick into the bandit's ribs. Agony roared as he was hurled back into another minion. Byleth readied his sword for a third round should it come. Mistake fixed.

Just like Enbarr.

"Hey—over here!" Claude's voice reached out as he and Blue Lion ran up. The former too grim, the latter restrained, and the Black Eagle… happy? Smiling despite it all.

Jeralt and the Broken Blade came up after, the bandits fleeing in the distraction. "Hey… did you just…" Confused at what he'd seen.

"The Knights of Seiros are here!" Alois came running up with a shout and ten men of his own. "Errr, more Knights of Seiros are here. Get after the bandits!" His men ran off in pursuit. "Captain! Captain Jeralt ha! What luck!" He came bounding up with a large smile. Another year hadn't done much to change the man. His mustache was a bit thicker, and his hair was slicked back more but it was as deeply brown as ever. His blue eyes held good cheer even in this situation. A favored ax still in his hands, his plate armor still thick and the spikes on his left pauldron were now a shiny gold rather than grey. The Crest of Seiros on his long cape skirted with dirt.

"Hello, Alois," Jeralt greeted him. "At least you arrived before things got worse."

"Good to see the old gang again. Hey, Byleth, looking sharp as ever! Laundry detail's gonna yell at you again."

"It's not my fault they bleed so much." He cleaned off his sword before returning it to his sheath.

"Ha, your wit is as dry as ever."

"How'd you get distracted by a bunch of bandits anyhow?" Jeralt asked.

"Err… well…" Alois fidgeted at the question. "I was maybe a bit too relieved to meet back up with you that I didn't take my duties seriously."

Jeralt slammed a palm against his head. "Good grief. I'm gonna be lecturing you all the way back to Garreg Mach."

"I look forward to it!"

Jeralt, Alois and the Broken Blade walked off into the distance. Knights of Seiros from abroad and at home mingling. Byleth alone and the students talking among each other a few feet off.

_The Knights of Seiros? They do see rather skilled._

He tripped at the girl's voice—Sothis's voice inside his head.

_Did I surprise you, hmm? Well, there will be time to chat later, those children seem quite interested in you._

She could see too?

"I appreciate your help back there," said the Black Eagle. Her dagger was back in its sheath and she'd retrieved her lost ax. "I knew the Knights of Seiros would be skilled, but you're exceptional, even for them."

"I'm not a knight of Seiros," he corrected.

She wasn't expecting that. "Oh, my apologies for the presumption then. But your father is Jeralt Eisner, correct? The Blade Breaker? Renowned as the greatest knight to ever live?"

"Yes."

She tipped a gloved hand to her lip in thought but gave no further response.

"So," Claude interrupted, "I take it you're gonna be our escort back to Garreg Mach then? I'd love to bend your ear as we travel."

That would change soon enough.

"And I look forward to learning from such a swordsmen," said Blue Lion. "The way you held your ground against the bandits' leader was captivating. It showed me I have much to learn." He did indeed. The bloodstains ruining his lance ran near the entire shaft.

"We'll probably be heading out again," said Byleth.

"Oh, is that so?" His enthusiasm drained with each word.

"The Broken Blade usually only stays a few weeks before we head out again."

"The Broken Blade?" said Black Eagle. "You've made quite a name for yourself apart from the Knights of Seiros."

She had to be someone important to know that.

"Even in the Kingdom there are tales of the church's Broken Blade," said Blue Lion. "If you've any control of your mission assignments, I would ask you to consider the Kingdom. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of individuals such as yourself." They were. But why was he being so forthright?

"You sure are hasty, Dimitri," said Claude. "Asking someone you just met to go rushing off to help you out. I, on the other hand, was planning and asking after a long fruitful talk and swearing eternal friendship before we reached Garreg Mach. But hey, the Alliance is always looking for new talent, and you're plenty talented in my eyes." He winked.

Byleth turned to face Black Eagle and her proposal. "Oh? Has the Empire interested you? Certainly a man of your caliber would do well." Not the glowing praise the others flattered him with.

"So, it's Edelgard that caught your eye, eh?"

"Have you never learned the value of holding your tongue, Claude?" Edelgard rebuked him.

"Oh, what is a leader without voicing their opinions? Or soon-to-be leader, anyway."

"And what is a leader that flees at the first sign of trouble?"

"That was a tactical retreat. That led us right into the vicinity of these fine fellows."

"Quite the keen strategy then," said Dimitri. "I thought you were acting as a decoy for all our sakes."

She shook her head. "He's obviously lying."

"You must learn to trust others, Edelgard. You will prove a lacking ruler if you can't rely on others."

"And you will prove a lacking ruler should you believe obvious lies."

Claude put his arms behind his head. "Oh joy, another debate between their royal highnesses. Tell me, how does being utterly predictable affect leadership?"

The implications weren't lost but they certainly childish for being royalty.

Edelgard waved a strand of hair away. "Arguing like this gets us nowhere." She refocused attention on Byleth. "Tell me, which country interests you the most?"

_It seems the choice of country is quite significant to them._

Sothis's words did not shake him this time. But he had a question before him.

The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, where he once traveled as a child younger than them. His memories a mist and his body once wounded. All gone but bits and pieces. Yet Glenn, and Cassandra and Christophe all hailed from the Kingdom. He'd known them for years.

The Leicester Alliance he'd journeyed only two years ago through. That village they'd saved, that fortress they defended. The girl who taught him of flowers.

The Adrestian Empire he just returned from. Where he warred for a year and acted as a shield to a hundred thousand people.

His choice was clear.

"The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus."

"Ah, wonderful," said Dimitri. "Faerghus has always valued the same chivalry and honor that you displayed." If the other two were disappointed they didn't show it.

"All right," Jeralt returned and interrupted them. "You've had enough small talk. Let's get back to the monastery before people start getting worried."

"Well," said Claude, "there goes our nice friendly chat. Hope you stick by us during the trip." And they left without even learning his name.

"Something wrong?" Jeralt asked.

"No," said Byleth.

"Well, glad to see you didn't freeze up near the royal brats. We'll probably be at Garreg Mach for a while so you'll be running into them at the training grounds for a while."

Byleth nodded and Jeralt took it as a reason to walk off.

_My, you're all in quite the hurry it seems._ Sothis's voice returned. _Each of them are rather unique, do you not think so?_

Would this be his future from now on?

_That Edelgard._

A refined young woman. Her every movement and posture was well thought out and guarded. Her eyes were always looking, searching—evaluating. Those eyes that irritated him with familiarity.

_Or that Dimitri._

He had a sincerity and earnestness about him. But the blood that stained him so thoroughly indicated a deeper darkness.

_And that Claude too._

That easy smile that drew attention, striking in its effectiveness. But his eyes did not smile with it.

_I thought much the same._

She did? How much did she know, then?

_Ah… I am so sleepy once again. I must have a nap._

Her voice left him alone. Alone with much to think of.

The War of Heroes and the face of Seiros.

The girl who shared her name with the goddess.

The flow of time that reversed like Enbarr.

And the eyes of Edelgard - so eerily familiar.


	2. Of This Beloved Place

**Great Tree Moon 20, Imperial Year 1180**

Gentle sunlight broke through the heavily forested woods as the Knights of Seiros escorted the house leaders of the Officers Academy back to Garreg Mach Monastery. Chatter, light and serious, broke out along the way.

“He ran off?” asked Jeralt.

“I’ve never seen such cowardice before in my life,” said Alois.

Jeralt had to slap his head at the words. What good was a professor that ran off at the first sign of danger? “Good grief. How are they gonna teach the brats without a third professor?”

“You could—”

“No.” He should be back in anonymous holy knight rotation by now. Would be if not for Byleth. “I’m too busy with my captain duties.” And this little encounter showed Alois still needed more time before getting the seat.

“I see, I see, what about you, Vaike?”

“I’m not coming back to teach, sorry,” the former professor said.

“We’re gonna be real out of sorts. I think Jertiza might be next in line?”

Jeritza? The man couldn’t hold a conversation for the life of him. “That won’t do at all.”

“He’s our best option without you and—” Alois’s eyes lit up like he’d discovered how to cheat death. “Or using the best option taught by you!”

“What’s that mean?” Alois wasn’t much for books.

“Byleth!”

“What?”

“It’s perfect, Captain! Who else here knows more about the Officers Academy than he does?”

“Come on, you know he’s never gone through the curriculum.”

“We all know he’d ace it. Heck, he even gave me a good fight before you guys left.”

Good fight was an understatement. “You know Byleth isn’t much for words either.”

“Aye, he’s always a man of action. And that action saved the princess’s life. Sword or spell he’s adept in both. He reads all the time. He’s chocked full of information. Why, even the students seem taken with him already!”

All true, even the last point, strangely enough. The three house leaders were chatting with him and each other up in front. Honestly, Byleth throwing himself into danger so recklessly like that was completely out of character. Good to see him care about someone else like that. If teaching the brats could lead to a repeat...

Maybe it would be a good thing to let him spread his wings on his own, as it were. “Well, if Lady Rhea allows it…”

Alois bellowed heartily. “There’s nothing to worry about! Lady Rhea loves your son like it was her own!”

In some ways that was what he was worried about.

\---

_This is quite the impressive place!_

Sothis’s words ran alongside his mind as Byleth and Jeralt stepped into the audience chamber of the monastery. The brick work of blue, grey, green and red lay out like a carpet to a two step high platform upon which sat Rhea’s golden throne. Three panes of stained glass filtering fading light behind it. Hanging above were impressive chandeliers of gold ensuring even in the darkness there would be light. Columns from floor to ceiling flanking them at evenly-spaced intervals, statues of saints in gray marble attached. Pedestals behind, pottery of old on display. To the left the doors of the advisory room were closed, where Rhea and Seteth would be. 

Things he’d seen a thousand times revisiting with fresh eyes brought about by Sothis’s awakening.

Jeralt explained why Byleth was to be here, for both a debriefing, and an opportunity. Alois had put him forth to replace the professor who’d ran off when the bandits attacked the students.

If accepted he would succeed and drive them off as he always did.

The advisory rooms doors opened and Seteth and Seiros—

—Rhea. Rhea walked out.

So much like the Seiros of his dreams. The hair and eyes of faint green. The white lilies in her hair covering her ears. But the smile Rhea greeted him with was not the fury of Seiros. No posturing of the warrior; the open airs and linked fingers: open and welcoming. The armor of Seiros absent, instead a white dress from foot to neck and down to wrists. A full-body cloak, with collar to her flowers in deepest blue and gold, a thousand images of the Crest of Seiros embroidered. The headpiece of wings was instead the crown running on top of her head. Icons like hearts—hearts so much like the adornment resting upon Sothis.

It made sense. Rhea bore a Major Crest of Seiros. Seiros founded her namesake church. Rhea could easily be descended from her, even if she’d never said as much. The Sword and Shield of Seiros that were her possession (but not on her person) lent further credence. The iconography of the church would clearly be based on their goddess.

Was the girl within the goddess for true? What then of the mural of a full-grown woman?

Heresy was not permitted. He needed to investigate.

“Jeralt, dear child, it is a relief to have you both back safe and sound,” Rhea said, with her voice that Jeralt once claimed as motherly.

“I must give my thanks for your swift aid to the students of the Officers Academy,” said Seteth, impeccable in tone. His face had settled on a slight smile above his beard. Dark green hair pulled out of his face and kept in place by a thin golden circlet across his forehead. Ears hidden within. Dark blue coat, buttoned stomach to neck and large trousers in the same color. Dark black boots and vambraces. Peeks of undershirt and pants in white. A cap of outer blue and inner gold around his shoulders. Confident, but not arrogant in the boldness of his chest.

“How did bandits even find out about their little excursion?” said Jeralt. Public announcements for class schedules were few in number, the Battle of the Eagle and Lion foremost among them. Either luck or subterfuge brought about this scenario and neither answer was pleasing.

“At this time that is still unknown. In response we have dispatched Shamir and her team to track down these bandits. You should expect a report within the moons.”

“Now,” said Rhea, her eyes turning on him, “Alois has forwarded his idea for a new professor.” Rhea looked him straight in the eyes. Smile matching them. “Dear child. It is my belief you would make a most wonderous teacher, should you choose to accept it.”

“Your skill is well known even amongst the knights,” said Seteth. “Your conduct has always been beyond reproach. Though your oration lacks I concur you are well-suited to this task nonetheless.”

Teaching?

“You do not have to answer immediately,” said Rhea. “Please, meet this year’s students more properly before you decide.”

_One should not rush recklessly into things. Lest they need time rewound for them._

Matching Sothis’s words would prove a difficult balance.

“All right,” said Byleth.

“Very good,” said Seteth and handed over the papers he was carrying. “These are the relevant documents regarding this year’s students. Look them over at your leisure.”

“I wish we had more time together,” said Rhea, “but matters of the clergy demand our attention. Please, excuse us.” The two of them returned to the advisory room, doors closed shut.

“Rhea will understand it if you say no,” said Jeralt.

There would be little difference from his current work. The professors receive their assignments from the knights’ discoveries. He spent most of his time at the monastery training the students already. Not much would change, overall.

But the professors had greater access to restricted materials of the library.

Before he could respond the great doors to the audience chamber opened and Manuela and Hanneman entered.

“Finally accepted a teaching position eh, Jeralt?” asked Manuela, all smiles and winks. A white robe draped half over her shoulders but completely empty in front, revealing the dress beneath. Its color matched Byleth’s hair, at a glance. Thin, with little material overall. Slits that showed off her legs from foot to hip and ended just a cut about her breasts. Kept fastened with straps to a choker around her neck. Her light brown hair combed back and curled forward at its ends. Brown eyes flitting over to Jeralt more often than not. Eyeshadow, lipstick and a bit of rouge coloring her cheeks and accenting the beauty mark beneath her left eye. Hands together. Like Rhea.

“Uhhh, no. It looks like Lady Rhea wants Byleth to be the new teacher.”

“What a fascinating idea,” said Hanneman, standing all the straighter, a few fingers taller than he. Mustache that went cheek-to-cheek and the beard from neck to lip. Hair parted in half with the right side curled upwards. Thick grey coat over a thick grey suit jacket and pants. A tie of green tucked within. Monocle with a gold rim sitting on his right eye. Blue eyes looking quite delighted at the circumstances. “He’s certainly acted like a teacher for years now, hasn’t he?”

Almost none of the students appreciated being defeated for the whole year.

“Much as I hate agreeing with you Hanneman, you’re right,” said Manuela, turning her look on Byleth. “I know everything I’ve taught him he’s passed with top marks. He never gets mad and he listens to everything I say. He’d make a wonderful professor.”

“Really, Manuela? So childish.” Hanneman shook his head.

Manuela’s eyes went cross at the insult. “What was that you old man?”

“If we could keep this on track…” said Jeralt.

“Of course, of course,” said Hanneman.

“Fine,” said Manuela. “You’re well aware of how the Officers Academy is structured, so let’s skip right to our darling students for this year. You’ve already met the house leaders when you rescued them back at Remire. Leading the Black Eagle House this year is the Imperial princess, Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

She was a princess? That explained quite a bit, actually.

Hanneman continued, “The Blue Lions this year are being led by Crown Prince Dimitri.”

The Crown Prince too? The bandits must have attacked knowing that. And Claude would be…

“Finally, Claude von Reigan has taken up as house leader of the Golden Deer. He is to be the next sovereign duke of the Alliance.”

All three future heirs in one place. That was no mere bandit attack, it had to be an assassination attempt. If anyone could find out the truth it would be Shamir.

“To think the next emperor, king and sovereign duke are here!” Hanneman’s cheer was matched with a smile. “The future of Fodlan is bright indeed.”

“There’s a couple of odd ducks in the bunch this year,” said Maneula, “but they’re all good kids deep down. Now,” she struck out with a sly smirk, “I think it’ll be best if we only inform the house leaders of your new position. It’ll be more fun this way. You can get a good look at the students before they see you as an authority figure.”

This would give him the perfect opportunity to investigate the library. Tomorrow, when the sun was on his side.

**Great Tree Moon 21, Imperial Year 1180**

“Ah, hello, Byleth,” said Tomas the librarian on Byleth’s entrance. “How may I assist you in your quest for knowledge today?” Tomas was hunched over his cane, two hands keeping his frail old body steady. A look of good countence on his worn face. Faded brown hair kept short matching his eyes. A small silver stud of an earring in both lobes and well-worn beige robes with long sleeves clothing him.

“I’m here for research.” The library of Garreg Mach was immense. Bookcases stacked to capacity running floor to ceiling. Pillars of wood steadying the upper floor, connected to the same material beneath feet. A row of carpet leading from door to globe, flanked by long tables with chairs and candlestick light. Ladder racks kept fastened by rails; stairs to the upper floor closed off but with books and more abounding.

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard you’ve been selected as our newest professor. Congratulations.” The man smiled. “I can acquaint you with the most successful circulars Professors Hanneman and Manulea have conducted over the years if that interests you.”

One could not hide such a thing from Tomas. “No, thank you. I’ll handle this myself.”

“Very well. But I shall always be here, have you a need for me.”

Byleth exited the conversation and gathered the tomes he intended. Ancient manuscripts and accounts of the church’s practices. He settled himself in a defensive corner and ensured none would bother him as he propped a book in front of his mouth and read. Words he’d read a hundred times before. But said to another so few.

_This is all so boring._ Sothis’s voice dominated his thoughts. Her words returned after a silence from yesterday. _Come, let us go and converse with others and seek the company of mortals and not some dusty books._

“These books may hold a clue to our situation,” whispered Byleth.

_If I am not sure of my situation how could these piles of paper?_

It was the closest thing to a lead they could do without running counter to the higher authority. Dishonoring the holy was worthy of death for members of the church. And so Byleth repeated the lessons and truths of the church to the girl who shared her name with the goddess. The Blue Sea Star, the Rite of Rebirth, the moon-months and her daughter Seiros.

Not one earned a flicker of familiarity.

Perhaps there was something in the deeper archives. But for now, they were stuck. And before he could investigate deeper with the girl within, her voice vanished for the day. When would he get the chance to ask about Enbarr? 

**Great Tree Moon 22, Imperial Year 1180**

There was another avenue to approach as well. 

“Hanneman, a word,” said Byleth entering into the man’s carpeted office. Bookshelves covered a wall, reaching floor to ceiling, filled to capacity with tomes on magic and Crests. The desk Hanneman sat at was piled high with papers, half a mess, half orderly stacked. Window of stained glass and alcoves with candlesticks for light, with a chandelier above. On the far wall was a board pinned with a dozen papers and images of Crests matching the one opposite the bookcases. A small seating area off to the left and there in the center of the room, embedded beneath the carpet, was a device for testing Crests.

“Ah, Byleth - or Professor as it should be soon enough. What can I do for you today?”

“I’d like to get my Crest examined.”

Hanneman leapt from his chair like he was running to save a life. “Marvelous! Wondrous! Astounding!” He came in close and prepared the Crest Analyzer embedded in his floor. “Oh, how many years have I awaited the day?!”

An image was projected. Not matching a single Crest common to history. “My word, this Crest… it completely defies all convention. The lack of symmetry, the size.. Has an undiscovered Crest resided within you all these long years?” Hanneman's mouth had gone agap in surprise. “I will do everything in my power to uncover the truth of this mystery!” Hanneman looked as glad as a child with sweets.

But the mystery was already solved.. Byleth knew this Crest. The slight curves bending in the light that breached the edge of the circle. Just a small part of a whole. A part of the Crest of Flames that adorned Nemesis’s cloak. That sat on the plate of gold above Sothis’s stomach. The Crest of the goddess herself. Blood of the divine and divine inside his mind. What was happening to him?

**Great Tree Moon 23, Imperial Year 1180**

Byleth had settled on his answer. Before Rhea in the audience chamber he accepted the teaching position and was commanded to meet with the house leaders and their houses. Hannamen and Manuela gave him the freedom to pick his class for the year. A gift for the new professor, they said. Though first he would need to investigate his would-be students.

Dimitri was first. The leader of the Blue Lions waiting for him in the main hall. The massive hall with its tables and seats spaced evenly. Beige stone slabs with painted squares underfoot. All brought forth to light by a dozen huge chandeliers. Second level balconies filled with foot traffic and visitors numbering in the hundreds sparing glances below..

“Hello, Byleth, was it?” He nodded at his name. “My apologies for my prior lapse in manners. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, prince of Faerghus and heir to the throne.” His greeting was friendly and full of smiles like most. “I want to reiterate how thankful I am for your protection that morning.”

“Just doing my duty.”

“You’re just like Glenn described.”

“You speak with him often?”

Dimitri nodded. “Yes, he is one of my dearest friends.” His eyes faded, unfocused for a spell. “But that can be discussed later. For the moment I hope you’ll inquire about us in the Blue Lion House.”

He’d memorized the information present in the rosters assigned to him. “Let’s begin with yourself.”

He seemed taken aback at this. “Me? Well, my history has not been the most… fit for conversation.” The Tragedy of Duscur. “But I can assure you, such a thing will not affect my studies. I will conduct my assignments with all due diligence.”

Evasive. Now was not the time to press. “What of Dedue Molinaro?”

“Ah, Dedue is also a good friend of mine. Some may call him a bit taciturn, but he’s gifted with a compassionate heart once you get to know him, and he possesses a thorough dedication to all he does.”

He left out mentioning he was of Duscur. “Felix Hugo Fraldarius?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard plenty from Glenn about his younger brother, yes?” Byleth nodded. “I daresay he’s more insightful of his kin than I am. But Felix and I go back to our youths as well. His skill is beyond question, but he has a nasty habit of confronting others about anything he finds irritating. Despite that, he is always dependable in a fight. There are few others I would consider better at protecting his friends.”

Much like Glenn. But he would need to see for certain. “And Ashe Ubert?”

“Ashe is the adopted son of Lord Lonato, a minor lord within the Kingdom.” Christophe’s adoptive brother. “He has had some hardships in the past, but he is a sweet young man who is always considerate of others. He has a deep desire to be a knight, and I hope your lessons will lead him down a righteous path.”

Being straightforward such as that would be a simple to teach student. “Sylvain Jose Gautier?”

“Sylvain is another old friend of mine. Devoted and true to his interests, for good or ill. He is… how to say this kindly? A… skirt-chaser as it were. I’ve spoken to him about it repeatedly but it never seems to stick.”

That could be difficult. “Mercedes von Martriz?”

“Mercedes is formerly a noble of the Empire, but fate has seen fit to bring her to the Kingdom. She is a kind soul who pays careful attention to all those around her.”

Helpful. “Annette Fantine Dominic?” Gilbert’s daughter.

“Annette is a hard-working girl. Too hard-working, sometimes. I’ve had to caution prudence these past few weeks because of how often she overworks herself. She will be a star pupil for sure.”

She would need to be tempered. “Ingrid Brandl Galatea?”

“Ingrid is devoted and studious, with a head of honor and dreams. She is a knight for true, even without the ceremony. She is also Glenn’s fiancée.”

Another student who would not prove troublesome then.

Most of the top candidates were down so they spent a few minutes after that going over the rest of the students. “I do hope you choose the Blue Lions, Professor. I wish to witness the good works I’ve been informed of in person.”

Byleth excused himself and headed out. There was a set of doors at the southern end of the hall that led westwards towards the Officers Academy proper. Connected by a stone path to the main hall, and dining hall to the south, but a small grass field situated between the main hall and classrooms. Some students were standing about, gossiping about all manner of things. A few sat on nearby benches, or loitered around the trees sitting in their own isolated plots.

The next house leader he found was Claude, who was idling by a pillar outside the Golden Deer classroom. Southmost of the three rooms so it made sense.

“Hey, hey,” the boy flippantly noted, “I’ve heard you’ve gone from knight to teacher. Pretty interesting profession change if I do say so myself.” Most of the knights helped with training so it wasn’t, really. “If you’re looking for the dirt on the Golden Deer I’ve got a shovel for you.” He kept that smile on. A mask concealing his own truth. 

“Let’s start with yourself.”

“Me eh? My favorite subject. But, let’s save that until we get to know each other more. It’d be a shame if we just spilled all our secrets on our first meeting.” That wasn’t an answer and he wasn’t going to get one.

“Then Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.” The cavalry-noble from two years ago.

“Lorenz is as noble as noble gets and he’ll never let you forget it. Or anyone else for that matter. He’s not a bad guy, but I could really stand to go more than five minutes without hearing about his ‘noblesse oblige’ or whatever he calls it.”

An accurate assessment. “Raphael Kirsten.”

“Raphael’s about the biggest and friendliest guy you’ll ever meet. He’s got a love for food and training that’s hard to forget. I heard his parents died a while back but you’d never know it from how he acts. Some people are just that good natured.”

Dimitri wasn’t alone in lost parents. “Ignatz Victor.”

“He’s the second son of a prosperous merchant house in the Alliance. Since his older brother is inheriting the business, he was sent here to be a knight instead. Thing is, I don’t think his heart’s in it.”

Could prove troublesome. “What about Lysithea von Ordelia?”

“Lysitha’s probably the youngest student here. She’s got top grades in all her assignments and loves to make sure other people know it. She hates being treated like a child, but I do it anyway. Gotta make your own fun around here, you know?”

Not a good attitude for a leader to have. For either of them. “Marianne von Edmund.”

“She’s the adopted daughter of Margrave Edmund, one of the five roundtable nobles in the Alliance. She’s not one for conversation, so I don’t really know her too well. Heck, I don’t think anyone does.”

The class had its fair share of difficulties. “Hilda Valentine Goneril.”

“Hilda’s the only daughter of another roundtable lord and sister to the Alliance’s best general. She’s been spoiled so rotten by her family her name is synonymous with lazy. If you do get her to work she’s actually good at what she does.”

And more difficulties were added. “And Leonie Pinelli?” The girl from Sauin.

“Leonie’s a commoner from a small hunting village in Gloucester territory. She’s incredibly motivated but kind of a spendthrift. I think she’s trying to repay her village for funding her enrollment.”

Competent and willing to learn.

Byleth went over the rest of the class roll and departed, finally making his way to the final house.

Edelgard was sitting atop a bench outside the Black Eagles’ classroom, rising on his approach.

“I have to give my apologies for not introducing myself in the earlier circumstances. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, princess and heir apparent to the Adrestian Empire. Though I’m certain you already knew that during our first meeting.”

“I did not.”

“Oh?” She flashed surprise between composure. “You seem quite unlike the other knights. Ah, may I have the honor of your name?” 

She should have been informed already. “Byleth.” 

“Well, Byleth, have you come to ask about the Black Eagles?”

“Let’s start with yourself.”

“Yes. Hmmm. Well, some think me a bit distant or self-involved. I can’t deny it fully, but one day I must assume the throne and that involves a certain separation with others.” Edelgard tipped her hand to her chin. “This may seem forward, but I also feel we have similar personalities.”

Th-that was a first. “What about Hubert von Vestra?”

“Hubert is the son of Marquis Vestra and has been my retainer since childhood. He may appear cold at first glance, and heh, that’s rather true. But he’s not beholden to letting feelings rule his actions, so he’s quite logical and astute in his methods.”

That was of mixed utility on the battlefield. “Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“Ferdinand is the heir to House Aegir, which has long produced Adrestia’s prime ministers. That family has been a bit too full of itself lately. He is also constantly challenging me in every little matter. It is terribly irritating.”

There was a time and place to question orders. “What of Linhardt von Hevring?”

“He is incredibly intelligent and would make a fine Minister of Domestic Affairs but he is also only ever interested in his own passions. He is also fond of, well, napping.”

Dangerous. “Caspar von Bergliez.” 

“Caspar is the second son of Count Bergliez and stands to inherit nothing.” There was a slight hint of scorn in her voice. “Despite this, he always puts his all into training and fighting, but can get carried away sometimes.”

Forthright, but reckless. “Bernadetta von Varley.”

“She is the daughter of Count Varley, the Minister of Religious Affairs in the Empire. She spends most of her time away locked inside her room and only leaves for meals or class. She’s a kind girl once you get to know her, but she frightens easily.”

That was incredibly dangerous. What was she doing here? “Dorothea Arnault.” The songstress from the stage five years ago.

“Dorothea was a renowned songstress in the Empire, though I was never able to view one of her operas while she was still a diva. She’s also the only commoner in the Black Eagle House. I’m not quite sure what brought her to the Officers Academy but she’s proven herself capable in sword and spell already.”

Manuela’s words: Attention was dangerous. “Petra Macneary.” Daughter of the prince. He’d nearly killed her father once.

“Petra is the granddaughter of the King of Brigid, the archipelago nation that invaded the Empire five years prior. As Brigid is currently a vassal state of the Empire, she and her father, the prince, are currently… guests of the Empire. Despite her hardships she is incredibly studious and cheerful.”

A hostage. Too valuable to harm.

The two of them went down the rest of the students after that.

Byleth had everything he needed to return to Rhea, but just the house leaders’ opinions weren’t enough to make an informed decision.

He was closest to the Black Eagles’ classroom, so he investigated them first.

Past the open double doors were desks stacked with books placed evenly. Rounded pillars in front of them. Oddly, now that he thought about it. It made students difficult to see from the desk at the back. More difficult to see the chalkboard nearby as well. Glass window backed the teacher’s desk, flanked by curtains which were then next to banners of the Black Eagle House. Bookcases held some of the walls, and roaring in the middle of both were open fireplaces. Warm even in the early onset of spring.

First his eyes met with a man matching the description of Hubert von Vestra and the familiar facial tattoos of Brigid on the face of Petra Macneary.

Byleth introduced himself and Hubert responded first, “You are the one who rescued Her Highness. For that, you have my most sincere gratitude. I am Hubert, a devoted servant of Lady Edelgard.” Tall, uniform of black jacket and golden chest flaps shined perfectly. Fully-bloomed pantaloons and spotless boots. Arms behind back, waiting. Judging. One eye of pale yellow judging Byleth as he judged back. Black hair in deliberate bangs covering the other eye. Cold and logical, aye. “This is Petra, a lady of the Brigid royal family.” 

“Hello, Byleth. I am called Petra. I am giving you the greetings and I am pleased to be meeting you. No, pleased to meet you.” Short, uniform without the jacket, with only the white undershirt and its wrist-long sleeves. The tight skirt below that. Hand not on the sword on her hip but angled precisely to grab it should trouble arise. Smile on her face, color on her cheeks, both skin and tattoo. 

Marks of Brigid. He knew some from the war. A tattoo in pink beneath her right eye (both eyes were brown). Hair, thick in purple, smaller braids tied upwards towards a larger bundle that fell off her head like a helmet’s plumage. “Greetings,” he answered her in the Brigid tongue.

Her face glowed in awe. “You understand Brigid?”

“A little.”

“I hope that little becomes a lot.” Her smile grew wide as it could and she shifted foot to foot.

“Forest spirits?” he pointed at his cheek.

Her face flushed in excitement. “Much so! Are you a good friend to Brigid?”

“I spoke often.” Someone had to interpret the prisoners.

“I hope to speak even more with you.”

“My, my, aren’t you full of surprises,” said Hubert. “I do not think I’ve encountered a single knight here who can speak a foreign language.”

Shamir could. But that was enough, for now. Byleth excused himself over to another pair. Caspar and Linhardt.

“Hey, you’re the guy who saved Edelgard right? You must be pretty tough! I’m Caspar, let’s brawl a bit later so I can see how strong you really are.” The short boy’s hands were already balled into a fist as he bent over forward in eagerness. Despite his size he had good muscles beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and a look of confidence matched his eagerness. Soft blue eyes to match his hair, which was styled to crash together in the middle of his head.

“I’m Linhardt. Good-bye.” Blue eyes half open, dark green hair parted to his sides and past his ears. The back of his hair was tied with a white ribbon that reached to the small black cape hanging off his back. A book was attached to a satchel at his side and the wide-hem pants covered his lower.

“Jeez Linhardt, you can’t even go two sentences without sleeping.”

“And isn’t it wonderful?”

There was not much to add unto that so Byleth traveled over to Ferdinand and Bernadetta.

“Ahhh?!” The short girl flailed and ducked behind the boy when he approached. “Who are you? Are you gonna do something to me? I knew it!” Her hair a purple mess that seemed to consider a hairbrush an enemy. Grey eyes gone wide and darting to every little thing. A deep blue hood peeking out from beneath her jacket and the short pleated skirt had shorts sticking out below.

“Easy Bernadetta, I believe this is the brave soul who protected Edelgard. Doubtful one so selfless would resort to kidnapping a lady.” He had a smile that went wide and teeth that shined. Orange hair kept immaculate and styled and bright orange eyes. A strong stance and well-maintained uniform with ascot and gloves in white alongside.

“Is it because I’m worthless? I knew it ahhhh! Ferdinand you bully, why are you selling me out?!” Bernadetta bolted from the classroom.

“Oh dear, it seems I made things worse. My apologies, sir. I will go make sure she does not land herself in further trouble.” And he ran off after her. 

Byleth spent time with a few other students before meeting with the last. Dorothea. The girl he’d seen on stage five years ago. Taller than before, for sure, with fuller breasts and cleavage peeking out from between the open academy jacket. A black cap gone askew atop her head, with rich brown locks falling out past her shoulders. Earrings of gold; bracelets and jewels adorning her wrists. For all the wealth on display he could see the show of muscles, the tone of her legs. “Hello, aren’t you a new face?” Her green eyes locked with his. “I’m Dorothea. You must be the one who saved our dear Edie. Such a brave and handsome knight you are. I may even write a little opera about it. Knight and princess never goes out of style, you know?” 

“Does it?” 

“Have you never been to an opera? We’re gonna have to change that right away then.”

He had little to say to that. With his business in the Black Eagles concluded Byleth headed next door to the Blue Lions’ classroom. Much the same in design as the Eagles’ room, save the banners which draped in the blues of Faerghus and lions of their namesake.

A boy with a sharp chin and a girl with blonde hair greated him first.

“You match every description my brother gave,” said the boy. A swagger of arrogance and tone even with so few words. Brown eyes that were already searching for any weakness. Dark hair pulled back into a bun to best keep his eyes clear. Shirt and vest and tight pants and strapped boots. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “I’m Felix, Glenn’s younger brother. And this is Ingrid, my future sister-in-law.”

“Hello. On behalf of all of Faerghus, thank you for saving His Highness. And on behalf of myself, thank you for being such a great friend to Glenn during his tenure here.“ Jacket, knee-length skirt and blue leggings beneath. Ernest green eyes and blonde hair pulled behind in a large single braid.

“I look forward to your swordwork. Glenn said you were one of the finest swordsmen he ever fought, and considering how often he engages Thunderstrike Cassandra that’s saying something.”

“I hope to learn from you in the future.”

“How is Glenn?” asked Byleth.

“Glenn is,” said Ingrid, “currently acting as a wandering knight ensuring the stability of our country.”

“As much as anything involving Miklan Guatier can be stable.”

Much the same as Cassandra and Christophe then. Byleth left and headed to his next engagement.

A shorter boy, with grey hair and youthful freckles and a taller, broader, darker skinned man with a face that barely moved as he talked.

“Oh, hello, you must be the one everyone’s talking about. I’m Ashe, and this here is Dedue.” The shorter boy seemed fixed on keeping a smile that his green eyes agreed with. The peek of a hood beneath his jacket was the only noteworthy comment on his uniform.

“Thank you for saving His Highness. If you ever have need of my strength, inform me and it will be yours. Men of Duscur do not forget their debts.” Hair of white, flat on top with back in tiny tail. Small green eyes that did not stare, yet took in all they saw without comment.

“How did a man of Duscur receive enrollment here?” It had to be asked.

Ashe seemed taken aback at the candor but Dedue replied without pause, “His Highness interceded on my behalf.” Broad of chest and shoulder, with a uniform bigger than Byleth had ever seen. Dimitri must have done quite the convincing to get such a garb tailored. To the man’s credit there did not seem to be a single thing out of place on the uniform either, not a crease or hair to be found. “It is a debt I intend to repay one day.”

Byleth accepted the explanation and went to the student loitering. Perhaps waiting for Byleth’s arrival.

“Hey, you’re the one who saved Dimitri, right? Good job there. Faerghus would be even more messed up without him. Oh, I’m Sylvain by the way.” Messy red hair that went wherever it wanted and brown eyes that wandered. But not through lack of care. No, they were sharp, taking in the situation with a deliberate concern. The open jacket, open shirt and rolled up sleeves and even the hair. All a shield.

There was not much conversation to be had here so Byleth introduced himself and left for the final pair.

“Hello, you’re a new face, aren’t you?” the taller girl, with pale blonde hair pulled forward and kept with a black-gold ribbon asked. “Do you work at the monastery?” Byleth answered yes. “What is it that you do around here?”

“Ah, Mercie, I think this is the knight that saved His Highness.”

“Oh, I recall Dimitri saying something like that. It’s a pleasure to meet you sir knight. I’m Mercedes, and this is my best friend—”

“Annette! It’s nice to meet you.” A short girl with red cheeks and a smile that never seemed to leave. Bright blue eyes and fiery orange hair pulled into loops behind. A bursting satchel hanging on her side.

The other girl had a lopsided smile, bushy eyebrows and pale blue eyes all her own. A shawl of dull gold around her shoulders - odd, for if it was a concern for warmth she lacked the academy jacket and the slight hint of skin between her blue socks and skirt should have been covered. Matching the oddness were wide-rimmed brown boots.

Yet her eyes, despite how flightly they seemed looking him over honed in on precisely the points Byleth would have. She was sharper than she appeared, like Sylvain.

Byleth finished with the rest of the Blue Lions and headed to the Golden Deer. Matching the other classrooms in shape and country and house banners adornment. 

Leonie and Lorenz immediately honed in on him.

“Hey, hey Byleth, it’s me, Leonie from Sauin!” The girl’s hair was as orange and short as before, and eyes to match. Her arms and legs toned well with muscle. An orange jacket tied around her skirt like a second layer. An arm warmer for her left, and archer’s gloves on her hands with their free fingers.

“Really, Leonie, your manners could use some refinement. Accosting a guest the moment he arrives is quite uncouth.” Lorenz had risen in height, his face still narrow, his hair purple and shaved at its sides. Red rose on his lapel; hands craned and fingers raised.

“Oh keep a top on it mister noble. Byleth isn’t concerned with that kind of thing right?”

“Not really.” It might change though.

“See?”

“Really, I thought the son of the Blade Breaker would be more cognizant of his status in the world. Well, regardless, it is a pleasure to see you once more, Byleth. That experience in Sauin was quite... enlightening.”

“Is all our suffering worth it for a lesson for you?”

“That is hardly what I meant,” Lorenz fell back. “As such I believe I should excuse myself before this turns even uglier.” He did just that.

“Ugh, can’t believe I’m getting stuck in the same class as that guy. Anyway, I hope to see you and Captain Jeralt around a bunch. You and he are the best knights here. Do you know if he’s taking squires? I’d like to continue our lessons from before. Oh, or would you picking us mean I’m your squire?”

The last squire Jeralt took was Alois. Byleth wasn’t a knight so he couldn’t do either. “I’ll ask him later.”

“Thanks.”

Byleth accepted and headed over to a large man, nearly the same size as Dedue and a small boy with glasses. “Hey, who’re you?” the big guy with his booming voice asked. A sun-shaded skin tone, sun-toned blonde hair and small yellow eyes. Or small against his wide face and chin. A smile on his lips and hands on his hips. Jacket gone and shirt trying its best to be gone too, as the buttons on the front tried their best to hold together over the man’s chest. Suspenders doing their best as well to keep his trousers up and doing a much better job.

“Ah, I think this is the knight who saved Claude, right?” His voice was higher pitched but he smiled brightly as he spoke. A bowl-cut of blonde, and brown eyes behind wide-rimmed circle glasses. Arms thin beneath his shirt, even when not compared to the trunks of his companion. “My name is Ignatz Victor, pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, hey, thanks for that. Claude’s a pretty cool guy. I’m Raphael Kirsten by the way. If you ever want to train or get a meal together I’ll be ready to go any time.”

That was all that needed to be said so Byleth went to a pair of girls, with one familiar. “Hmmm, do I know you from somewhere?” the pink-haired Hilda asked. The faint whiff of some perfume whafting off her.

“Yes.”

“Hey, that’s great.” She smiled for some reason, doing her best to flutter her pink eyes and swish her hair around. The twin tails of pink swaying against her body. “Well then, this here is Marianne.”

“M-Marianne von Edmund,” the other girl introduced herself. Barely. Her eyes kept to the floor, barely letting Byleth see them for the grey they were. Bangs of blue shadowing them deeply and. For all she stood taller than Hilda she seemed half the stature. And even through her thick winter uniform Byleth could tell the frailty of her constitution compared to the muscles present on Hilda.

“Marianne doesn’t talk much but she’s a real sweetie once you get to know her.” The girl recoiled further at the mention. “Well, if there’s nothing else…”

Byleth excused himself for the final candidate. Lysithea was busying herself with a book in the corner. “Ah, you’re the one who saved Claude, correct? We’d be much out of sorts without him around, so, thank you. I am Lysithea von Ordelia. You will shortly know me as the best student here.” Short, youngest student too from her roster and Claude’s introduction. Her head barely came up to his chest and she looked frail, beyond even the retreating Bernadetta or Marianne. Yet despite that she stood tall and held herself with poise and confidence. A chin tipped up, not solely to link her pink eyes with his blue. Hair whiter than the purest snow; bangs that reached her eyes rest to her lower back.

A simple glance at the text showed an advanced magic formula. One involving Crests, if his own knowledge recalled. Studious even on leisure. “Keep that up and you will.”

A knowing smirk answered him. “Of course.”

Byleth finished his rounds with the other students and headed back up to Rhea. Manuela, Hanneman and Seteth already engaged in conversation.

“Have you finished your introductions, dear child?” asked Rhea.

“Yes.”

“Very good. I hope you continue to instruct these future leaders with all the diligence and quality you’ve long displayed in service of our holy church.”

“Now, it’s time for you to choose,” said Hanneman. “Manuela and I will take our picks after.”

Dimitri and the Blue Lions. Family of his friends of old.

Claude and the Golden Deer. A mixed bunch with some prior engagements.

Edelgard and the Black Eagles. Filled with the nobility.

“I choose…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now competently edited!


	3. Welcome to the Black Eagles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to the criticisms delivered to me here, I've done some significant editing and alterations to Chapter 3. Including splitting if in half to create a Chapter 4 off the back half. I hope I've massively improved scene flow, dialogue, and removed some of the "gameiness" present. As well as introducing some new scenes.

**Great Tree Moon 23, Imperial Year 1180**

“I can’t believe it.” Caspar stood dumbfounded, half-hidden behind taller Black Eagles. “You’re our new professor?” The rest of the Black Eagles’ classroom chattered in acceptance and confusion themselves.

Dorothea returned things to task, “You’re being a bit rude there, aren’t you Caspar?” lightly chiding him.

“You know it’s a waste of time to expect manners from him,” Linhardt added on. “It will be my pleasure to learn from you, Professor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel a nap coming on.” Linhardt broke from the half-circle of students to lay his head down on a desk.

Byleth’s gaze passed back over Bernadetta, who shierked and ducked behind Dorothea. “Come now, Bern,” the taller student said, “the professor isn’t here for anything untoward.” A light sadness touched her lips. “I’m sorry for the chaos you’ve wandered into, Professor.”

“I hear we are rather close in age, Professor,” Ferdinand entered in. “Twenty-one, if gossip holds true?” Byleth affirmed with a nod.. “Smashing. I hope you do not mind if we treat you as one of us. I would love to include you as an equal to the esteemed Black Eagle House.”

“Do what you will.” He couldn’t stop it. They’d tire of him eventually. Like the others always did.

“Not the most enthusiastic response you could have given.”

Petra spoke next, her words in Brigid, “I look forward to learning from you.” With words thereafter unintelligible to his knowledge.

“I, same,” he replied with her own tongue.

“You have quite the gut, Professor!” her words back in Fódlan.

_ What? _

“Petra, dear,” said Dorothea, “I think you mean our professor ‘has guts’. That’s a bit different from saying he has a gut.” Her eyes flitted over his stomach. “You can’t go around saying someone so slim and attractive has a gut.”

That was new.

“Oh? Please take my apologies.” There was no need to, so he waved it off.

“Professor,” said Edelgard, “I want to let you know it’s perfectly fine to treat me the same way you would the others.” 

“I had no intention otherwise.” 

She smiled at the idea. “Good. I may be the Imperial princess, but here I am just another student of the Officers Academy. I hope you can lead the Black Eagle House to greatness.”

Caspar slammed his fists together. “Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way let’s get some action going! A training session builds bonds like nothing else!” He laughed so loud and deep he creened himself backwards.

“Bonds? What does knot-tying have to do with fighting training?” Petra asked with complete honesty.

“Not those kinds of bonds, Petra.”

“Rope? No, I don’t want to deal with any sort of rope!” Berndetta clamored loudly. “Let’s just all go back to our rooms and deal with no ropes.”

Dorothea simmered with a sigh. “Let’s all calm down and have a nice cup of tea. Doesn’t that sound lovely, Professor?” It did. He rarely got to enjoy a fine cup abroad. But business first.

“I know we agreed to speak as equals,” said Ferdinand, “but we need to maintain some decorum. The esteemed Black Eagle House requires order.”

“My my,” the formerly silent Hubert glowered in the back, “it would seem your first task is quieting down this lot. I don’t envy you.”

“Ugh.” The slight joy on Edelgard’s face faded. “They’re not normally so... rowdy. I do hope you can forgive them, Professor. Managing them will be quite a task.”

That it would be.

**Great Tree Moon 23, Imperial Year 1180**

The lessons would formally begin on the 25th, but the days beforehand Bylth was busy with other important matters. Foremost was transferring his personal effects from his quarters. Moving from his quarters on the eastern side, where most of the monastery staff resided, to the western end where the student dormitories were situated.

His new room was on the ground floor, located at the northern end.. Right next to the sauna and training grounds, and straight across from the Black Eagles’ classroom. Small and square as his previous room had been.. A white-silver carpet covered most of the floor, a roll-top desk and bulletin board on the north wall. A dresser against the back wall below the windows and the bed on the south wall. A hook for his coat and another dresser below that on the east wall, behind where one of the doors opened up.

His swords and clothes were transferred. The daggers and coin pouch and money too. His tea set and personal cooking utensils. Fishing gear. Dancing shoes. The few books he owned.

It was not much. But it was all his.

He’d need to expand his inventory with teaching materials in the future, but for the time being he could borrow from the classrooms and library. As he usually did. His personal library was small for a reason.

For now he spent the rest of the day familiarizing himself with the room assignments. Dedue was his closest neighbor and most of the student body nobility had quartered on the upper floors. Though a few, such as Bernadetta, had ground floor rooms as well. After all the talk from Seteth over the years of how they didn’t discriminate based on lineage, the nobles still had their way.

**Great Tree Moon 24, Imperial Year 1180**

On the way back from another uneventful trip to the library, Byleth encountered Edelgard in the halls. “Ah, hello, Professor,” she greeted him. “If you’re as thorough with us as you are with your own research we shall be in good hands.”

“I’ve planned the best I can.”

“And plan we must. Even for when those plans should go awry.” Edelgard cupped her hand to her chin. “Professor, do you mind if I ask why you chose the Black Eagles?”

“No, but why?”

“Dimitri seemed overly enthused with the possibility of your tutelage. I know he greeted you first, and I’ve heard you have a history with Faerghus. Yet you chose us. I admit, I didn’t make the best first impression, so I was quite surprised myself.”

That was simple. “You needed the most help.”

Edelgard blinked those familiar purple eyes a few times. Disbelief at it all. “P-pardon?”

“The way you acted in our first encounter was not ideal.”

“That’s…” Edelgard raised her gloved hand to cover her mouth. Likely grimacing at his candor. “I would be remiss not to point out it was your own lack of follow-through that led to such a scenario in the first place.”

“Agreed. My mistake put you in danger.”

“My,” she was taken aback again, “most people find it difficult to admit fault with themselves so readily.”

“Facts are facts. Regardless of whatever feelings are involved.” Or not involved considering himself.

Edelgard removed her hand. Keeping herself as neutral as possible. “If only everyone could face themselves so confidently. Well, I’ll not keep you any longer, my teacher. Good day.”

“Good day, Edelgard.” The two of them parted ways.

**Great Tree Moon 25, Imperial Year 1180**

The twenty-fifth. His first official day of teaching. The Black Eagles settled in their seats, gazes aimed at him for his new guidance. Edelgard foremost among them, a carefully designed smile on her face. Eager Caspar, sleepy Linhardt. Bernadetta cowing in the back behind a pillar. Youths eager for knowledge.

Met with an announcement: “We’re going to the training grounds.”

Bernadetta groaned; Caspar cheered. Before he could direct a teaching course he needed to see what he was working with.

“The training grounds are the best you could plan, Professor?” Edelgard had an amused little smirk on her face.

“Clearing it for the sole use of the Eagles was, yes.”

She didn’t quite strike a noise, but it seemed like she found it amusing all the same.

The training grounds were empty of other people, Manuela and Hanneman having bowed out when he addressed them yesterday and Jeritza begrudgingly adhurning his own lessons out clearing out any knights. Open-topped, stone slabs for grounds. Dummies and targets of straw and wood. Racks of wooden training weapons: arrows without heads, bladeless swords, dull lances and axs that couldn’t chop a tree. 

They needed to grow accustomed to the fake weaponry first, for it was what they would handle during the mock battle next moon. Even wood could wound if handled improperly, and kill if handled too properly. The magical disciplines were even more dangerous. He needed to make sure everyone understood how to check their power.

He walked them through the order of operations and let each of the students demonstrate themselves. 

Edelgard displayed a comfortable usage with the training swords and axes, but had difficulty handling a bow. Something about her arm strength was causing difficulty, something he’d never seen before. As well, she had a lackluster response to a demonstration of white magic but a bold enthusiasm for black magic if no particular ability.

“You have exceptional balance but be careful not to overcommit on your actions.” Such a habit had nearly slain her in Remire.

Hubert had a solid understanding of the bow and the fundamentals of lancework but lacked inclination to heft the training ax around. His spellwork was much superior, as a rare user of dark magic his neglect of white was understandable.

“If you want to command the most versatility on the battlefield you will need to undergo training with faith magic.” There were those who forgoed it and fought fine but he needed to prepare them for all eventualities.

Dorothea proved apt with the sword. Byleth recalling Manuela’s stories of her time had the opera almost requiring it. Though she certainly had skill and poise, it would be difficult to leverage her make of swordwork on a chaotic battlefield. Her usage of black magic proved much superior, making strong strikes on the target dummies with bolts of lightning. Like Edelgard and Hubert before her, she seemed to detest the qualities of faith magic. While the other two seemed unconcerned about the correct management of spell-weaving the white, Dorothea’s retained her sharpened edge. Perhaps something he could improve with training

“Your skill with a sword is defensive, never forget that. It will give you an edge should an enemy enter close quarters but it is not practical for assault. Keep your reliance on your magic first.” If her magical abilities were honed in tandem with her swordsmanship she’d be able to undertake independent magical assignments.

Ferdinand proved exemplary with sword, ax and lance. Quickly adapting to each with powerful and boisterous flourishes. His strikes on the target dummies were well-delivered to vulnerable spots. Without any obvious weaknesses he needed to hone on what he succeeded at.

“You’re handling is well-done but don’t let such confidence against target dummies blind you to targets that hit back. Make certain your ground is stable, your footwork is so precise a pebble might dislodge you.” The battlefield was never that secure. He’d need to impress heavily on the value of reconnaissance.

Bernadetta was a lost cause with the sword and ax. The former even gave Byleth pause since he saw the girl nearly hit herself. In response she showed great skill with the lance and bow. She had a great sense of space for her lance thrusts and every time she fired an arrow it hit its mark. Even when switching to moving targets she claimed the best accuracy of any Eagle. Impressive considering a quarter the time she had her eyes closed.

“You have exceptional eyesight and coordination. Your ability to pinpoint danger will be highly valuable but you need to keep your eyes open at all times. You’ll be in more danger if you blind yourself to your surroundings.” Archers required either a strong defensive line or an amush position. The former fit better with Bernadetta’s actions for now but she’d need to learn the latter to have the most success on the battlefield.

Caspar was almost her antithesis, proving all too eager to rush in with his hands and ax and go straight for the kill. The yelling was distracting, but his handling of the ax and weight distribution were qualified. While he struggled heavily with the bow, not landing a single arrow. He managed to be even worse at reason magic, getting only the faintest whiffs of fire conjured.

“You’ve the spirit and ferocity but you need to temper yourself and pick your fights. Brawling should be a last resort, not a first.” That aggressiveness needed to be honed into an explosive force, not a river’s stream. He’d exhaust himself if he wasn’t struck outside his reach first.

And then just to oppose him, Linhardt was appalling with the ax. Barely able to raise it enough for a solid strike and half-heartedly follow through. When Byleth had him attempt a punch he just slapped the dummy instead. His interest laid solely in the magical properties, being the first Black Eagle to accomplish the target goals with reason and faith magic.

“You have ability with magic so keep on reinforcing that. Make sure you still train with a weapon that suits you as well. You need to maintain a healthy body even with a primary focus on magic.” The rigors of travel in war were not kind to the lazy.

Petra followed in the wake of her people. With a low, darting stance that relied on speed to sap their enemies before delivering a critical blow. Her sword stabs were fast and her ax swings were the fastest he’d seen among them, even putting Edelgard to shame. Her bow shots were nearly as skillful as Bernadetta’s, and aimed at the more vulnerable parts of the body. When it came to spellwork she was without any skill. Brigid had little magical prowess from his experience and all of Fodlan’s lessons would be in Fodlan.

“You’ve a strong understanding of your offensive capabilities. Be cautious around magic.” The lessons of the Dagda and Brigid War had already honed her sensibilities. Let Fodlan hone her more.

The rest of the students showed off their qualifications as well. A mixed and varied bunch of their own. Despite their noble upbringing few seemed to favor swords, with more showing preference towards lances or axs and even the brawling gauntlets instead. Those that didn’t had a strong alliance with the magical. Long believed to be the noble birthright, after all. Most of their leanings fit in strongly with the history of the Empire, its strength in heavy infantry and mages.

He called the session at noon to let the students rest and take lunch. Most of them obliged immediately on the offer, heading south towards the dining hall, but Caspar and a few others went back to hitting the dummies. It was not ideal but he’d let them continue for now so they learned a lesson on their own.

“Professor,” asked Edelgard, “do you have any plans yourself?”

“I have to prepare the next course.”

“Will it take long? I’d love to see you in the dining hall.”

He could simply send the orders off to the armorer and stablemaster. There wasn’t much he could do to increase the delivery speed either. “Very well.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to accept it if you don’t wish it. I’m not going to force you to do something you’re unwilling to do.”

It began. “If I was unwilling I wouldn’t have accepted.”

The frown remained. “I hope one day you’ll join us with a smile on your face then.”

“And a smile for yourself?”

That, however, earned a little smirk. “Good afternoon, my teacher.” Edelgard and most of the Eagles departed. Though it did not take long to finish preparations and join them in the dining hall.

Row after row of long wooden tables and seats. Candelabras, chandeliers and sunlight. Banners of the church hanging from the ceiling. Eagles took their meals and filled seats whilst Lions left theirs.

“Hey, hey, Professor,” Sylvain approached him, with a handful of ladies in various states of displeasure following behind. “Here to invite a couple of lucky ladies to a meal?”

“I was invited by Edelgard, actually.”

Sylvain let out a low whistle. “The Imperial Princess herself? Good luck with that!” With a smirk and a wink he hurried out, the woman stalking out after him.

Sure was Maneula of him.

Byleth joined the back of the line, which quickly diminished until it reached his turn. Flora was always a masterwork at getting orders served and ready. Edelgard gave him a nod, a tray of what looked like saghert and cream clutched between her hands. Byleth briefly recalled Hanneman mentioning how Crestbearers favored sweet foods… and took an order of saghert and cream himself.

Her looks lingered on his chosen meal for a few seconds before she spoke. “Is that your favorite too, Professor?”

“Sweets or spices.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” By now most of the hall was filled, and finding an empty seat took more than a quick glance. It would be easy for Edelgard to use her position to clear a seat.

She didn’t.

After looking for an opening for a few minutes she spotted one at the eastern end of the hall and led the pair over.

Next to Bernadetta.

“Ah! Lady Edelgard! and Professor! What have I done wrong this time?”

Edelgard shook her head. “Nothing, Bernadetta.”

“That’s right,” Byleth added. “We’re here to eat, just like you are.”

“That’s what you say now…”

“And what I’ll continue to say.”

“I’m on to you…” But to her credit she kept seated. Enjoying the same saghert and cream meal they had. She did have a Minor Crest of Indech after all. “Oh, you two have got good taste!”

“Indeed,” said Edelgard, “everything the dining hall produces has tasted excellent. Even the chefs in the Imperial Palace can’t compare.”

“The ingredients in the kitchen stocks are way more fresh than anything I had back home,” Bernadetta said with bold new cheer. “And the kitchen utensils are all the best I’ve seen too. All the knives and pans are spotless. The stoves are perfectly proportioned for whatever you want to make and they’re completely free of soot and the fires are all magical so they heat the meals up nice and quick.” Excitement had cost her an entire breath so she stopped to take in a few gulps of air.

“You’ve an excellent eye for cooking, Bernadetta,” Byleth acknowledged her expertise. “Did you cook often back home?”

“Huh? Oh, I, yes. I mean, cooking was one of the only things I was good at growing up.”

Working on common ground could help counteract the girl’s negative tendencies. “Would you care to prepare a meal together, sometime?”

She didn’t shirk back. “M-maybe. B-but you’re still kind of a stranger right now and uhh…” 

“Take your time.”

“R-right.”

The meal continued in peace, with some light chatter of no importance passing through the air. The fake civility Edelgard displayed was gone in favor of true. Their meals vanished into their stomachs, Bernadetta rushing off the moment she was no longer beholden to stay.

“You certainly handled her well, my teacher,” Edelgard said with genuine enthusiasm. “I think that’s the most conversation anyone’s gotten out of her since we arrived.”

“Do you know why she’s so nervous?”

Edelgard shook her head. “I’d heard of the reclusive daughter of Count Varley, but that was it, I’m afraid.”

“Were you not acquainted in your childhood?” The Imperial family should be familiar with the Six Ruling Families.

“Ah, no. Hubert was my retainer, of course, and Ferdinand’s father, the prime minister, made sure we met a few times as well.” A strange expression flashed across her face for a moment. “Though I’d met Caspar’s older brother I’d never met him. Being a second son he is nothing more than a reserve should something untoward happen towards his brother. Then I never met Linhardt because he and Caspar were friends. Bernadetta I explained, and Dorothea’s background meant we’d never met. I was quite familiar with Petra, however. When circumstances allowed.”

He had a passing curiosity regarding her as well. “Wouldn’t Petros be enough of a hostage?”

Edelgard had to blink a few times at the sudden question. “I was never fully informed of the intricacies of the treaty with Brigid, but my own idea is she was brought in to ensure that Prince Petros never attempted an escape. Count Bergliez spoke quite highly of his capabilities.”

Yes, that made sense. Petros had extracted himself marvelously on the battlefield a number of times. With his daughter held hostage he couldn’t attempt anything.

And with her father held hostage, Petra couldn’t either.

“I hope one day Petra and her father will be free of this arrangement,” she told him. “Brigid would be a stronger ally willingly than coerced as they are. One day, with enough work, there will be no more need for Mach Wars or Dagda and Brigid Wars.” Her features hardened into a calm confidence. Byleth could only nod.

* * *

Caspar and the Eagles who’d remained behind were circling the carts containing armor while Luka the armorer looked on. With a grunt of annoyance accompanying it, he transferred control of the carts over to Byleth before leaving.

Reforming the Black Eagles back into ranks he motioned them to start kiting themselves out.

Once done he ran them back through the drills from before, this time armored up. They needed to get used to their new weight, their stamina being sapped more. The different feel of their swings, their steps. Even these simple padded gambesons they’d be equipped with for the mock battle would need practice. The initial attempts went well, all save Bernadetta, who found it difficult to ready her bow and fire. Once she had a custom cut of armor her problems would lessen, but for now she encountered enough difficulty for Byleth to call her off (to her relief). 

Others went straight towards the heavier training armors. Ones weighted more heavily than the actual heavy infantry suits in order to best adapt to the burdens they’d be carrying. Edelgard led them, seven others following in her steps as best they could. Ferdinand took a hand at it too, though he overestimated his chances and nearly fell several times trying to run laps.

He let the Eagles take another short break before they moved on to mounted combat.

“Whew,” said Ferdinand, “those armors are even heavier than they look.” Byleth repeated his criticisms about mastering his footwork and steps. It was even more important in full suits of armor. “I will surpass her in no time!” His confidence was undaunted.

After a few more hours of practice Byleth had them return the armors and ready themselves for the stables. Even if mounted combat was disallowed for the mock battle he’d still need to ascertain their capabilities as soon as possible. On arrival he began the lecture and soon enough they went through the instructions of caring for and tacking up horses. Ferdinand threw himself into it with gusto and was first a horse. Bernadetta showed some initiative of her own and wasn’t far behind him and soon the rest of the class was as well. Save Dorothea, who struggled getting the saddle on, getting on entirely and was unprepared for the rigors of riding. Even if she had no intention of riding a horse into battle she’d need to learn how to ride solely for travel purposes.

When they switched over to the flying mounts Dorothea maintained that same difficulty. Though she remained better than Hubert, who did not even bother tacking up his assigned wyvern. Only Petra showed real promise flying the skies. Flying about with a natural ease that even drew the attention of knights on aerial patrol.

Eventually that came to an end as well, and Byleth brought them back to the training grounds for one more bout of criticism and praise. He handed out his assessments and criticisms to each of his students. Some took it well, others less so. But it was much different then the arrogant glares and looks of disgust he usually received from students for teaching them. Odd.

Then it was to be followed up with practical demonstrations in a duel. Showing he could enforce what he was advising. 

“Bernadetta, you’re first.”

“First to the slaughter for old Bernie?! Nooooo!”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s what they all say!”

“Have I?”

“No—but that doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“Then learning to fight would mean you can stop people from trying to hurt you.”

The slow realization dawned on the small girl’s grey eyes. “D-don’t haunt me if I hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.” Byleth and Bernadetta took opposing sides of a training square while the rest of the Black Eagles took to the sides. “Now shoot.”

Bernadetta carefully notched a flat-head arrow. Byleth carefully appraised every moment of the girl’s actions. Waiting, looking for any—she fired.

Byleth battered the arrow aside effortlessly. “Woah…” she said, eyes wide as they could go. “How did you do that?”

“Keep trying.”

With a slight nod she took out another training arrow and fired. Again he blocked it. “Again.” With slightly more confidence she fired another two, and Byleth blocked both. A third she brought out and carefully drew back… fired and was deflected again. “How are you doing that?” she asked and everyone else had stepped forward with interest of their own.

“The training arrows travel slower.” They did not cut the air as sharply. “Your movements, your actions, the movements of your eyes and breathing. These are tells. Showing me when and where you’re going to fire.” The more experienced combatants nodded along with his explanation.

“T-tells?” 

“You need to sharpen your focus on your opponent in situations like this one. In large battles you’ll need to concern yourself less, but that’s never a guarantee either. Study your opponent and strike at the best moment.” Byleth looked over the rest of the Eagles. “Ferdinand, you’re next.”

He leapt into action. “Prepare to be blinded by my magnificence!” Bernadetta hurried off the field and ducked behind a pillar while Ferdinand readied himself. On “go” Ferdinand ran in and swiftly stabbed at him. Byleth blocked the strike to his knee and the follow-up swing at his side. Byleth sent a slow stab back and Ferdinand flourished away and responded with another thrust. He knocked it away and stepped in, smacking Ferdinand in the gut -- the confidence on display shattered and Ferdinand barely avoided tripping over himself before Byleth put point to neck. 

“You have the technique but you fell apart when I broke your concentration.” Ferdinand acknowledged his demonstration with a half-heartened nod. “Petra, you try.”

Ferdinand slowly sagged off while Petra stepped up with her sword. She dipped low in stance, keeping her knees bent and legs ready to burst with speed. She came in with “go” and swept low with sword’s length. Byleth measured the strike and blocked, Petra bounded off the block and into a stab at his other thigh. Byleth twisted aside to block as Petra earned distance and came back round his left. He dodged that one, but feigned his footwork foul. Her face lit up at the opportunity and angled for a thrust at his chest -- which Byleth intended and he knocked her blade up with his pommel and twisted himself around to get his sword against her stomach. “Humans aren’t animals. A cornered man may trap when a cornered animal might just bite.”

She was alight with enthusiasm. “I have understanding, Professor.” And she leftfield, smile on her lips and head low in thought.

“Dorothea, make your attempt. Use magic.”

“Ah, isn’t that risky, Professor? I don’t want to sear that flawless skin of yours.”

“You won’t be able to hit me either.”

A small smile crept on her lips. “Is that a fact, Professor? Say I do, what do I win?”

“A passing grade.”

“That’s so boring, I’d like something a bit more.” She winked at him for some reason.

Just like Jeralt promising more fights with Cassandra. “Like what?”

“I haven’t gotten that cup of tea yet…”

This wasn’t how she’d get one. “All right.”

“Don’t worry, Professor, I’ll take it easy on you.”

He could have said those same words back. With a “go” she did her motions and a bolt of lightning was conjured and dodged. Surprised, as expected. Perhaps thinking it was mere chance. But as he repeated his dodges she eventually conceded. “I don’t quite understand how you managed to dodge lightning, Professor.”

“I already answered that.”

Her face lit up on a quick answer. “Ah, tells? Kind of nice to know you’re looking at me so intensely.”

“You need to enact fake signals and signs. Mislead your opponent to your intent.”

“I’ve always been rather honest with my attempts. But you sound like you like a little intrigue.”

That was one way to say it. 

“I’m all fired up!” Caspar rushed in without pause. Ignoring Dorothea on the field and any word to stop he leapt in. “Let’s go, Professor!” His loud shouts proved trying to ignore. Dorothea pouted and hurried off the field before Byleth gave a “go”. Caspar’s fists were fast but not fast enough and Byleth took a specific step back to let Caspar whiff a swing and let Byleth rest his sword on Caspar’s head. “You need to be mindful of your opponent’s range when attempting to brawl. Letting them gain distance can be fatal.”

“Right, right, I gotcha.” And he left just as quickly as he arrived. Byleth’s words falling out of his head again.

Neither Hubert or Linhardt wanted to make any attempts, nor did any of the other Eagles. Only a slightly smiling Edelgard was left to come forward with her ax. “You’re even more skilled than you demonstrated in Remire.”

And more beyond that, but that wasn’t the point. “Come.”

Edelgard was fast, her strikes were accurate and blows powerful. More than once Byleth had to take her attacks seriously to deflect or dodge. His attempts to strike back were met with an equally proper guard. She did not fall for his misdirects or gaps. Curious how she dropped her ax before considering the skill displayed before him.

But he did see her flaw. He quickly unleashed a barrage of attacks which Edelgard successfully blocked but his unyielding strikes were playing havoc in a way she didn’t expect. He backed off for a second to catch his breath and renewed his assault. With one final large swing he forced her to loosen her grip and followed it up with a smack near her hands, breaking it free from her grasp entirely.

It was a peculiar expression on her face, with its slight frown yet eyes that did not agree. A worried brow and angled look. “You’re excellent,” he said to her “But your grip is too tight. The strikes I sent shook down your arms, fatigued you, let me damage your grip.”

“Not a mistake I’ll repeat twice.”

A duelist situation for sure, yet one that could repeat on the battlefield itself.

He let Edelgard go before speaking. “Think of what I’ve shown you -- shown each of you. Learn what you’ve seen from others as well as yourselves. Understand your strengths, and more importantly your weaknesses. Knowing your vulnerabilities means you know where enemies will strike.” He paused like Jeralt used to pause. “Some of you are thinking of ‘tells’ I can tell.” Someone chuckled. “Such a thing matters less in a line, less on the battlefield. It still retains its importance but you can’t let reading into a single opponent’s actions blind you to another. But for the mock battle next moon, it will be important. With only a handful of combatants understanding your opponent’s intent is critical. Think of whom you’re fighting and how they’ll act and react.” He gave a longer pause. His throat was starting to hurt from speaking so much. “Dismissed.”


	4. Mocking the Mock Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter 4 was originally the second half of the previous Chapter 3. In the interest of readability I cut it in half and made them into two seperate Chapters. In response to criticisms I've redone several points in this chapter in the name of readability, scene flow and removing "gameiness". As well as introducing new scenes.
> 
> If anyone has any such criticisms I encourage you to tell me. To me it shows how much you care that you want to imrpove my work. Scene flow, readability, criticisms, fact-checking or spelling errors anything I want. Thank you all for reading and caring.

**Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Jeralt was up at dawn and set out in front of his son’s new room over at the dormitories. He had no idea why Rhea wanted him quartered near the students. The whole situation was making him more uenasy than usual yet… Rhea had never harmed Byleth. 

But he also hadn’t lived this long to not be paranoid.

“Ah, Sir Jeralt,” said Prince Dimitri, coming up from the south side of the dormitories. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you.”

“Well, you’ll get plenty of that soon enough.”

“Indeed.” Kid smiled. “Now that I can do so more formally, I wish to offer an official thank you on behalf of Faerghus for your actions in Duscur. Saving Cassandra, so many others and myself...” He took a calculated pause. “My father.”

“Didn’t do so well on the last one.”

“But the moments you bought for me… were…” The kid looked down. “If not for your plea to Lady Rhea the massacre in Duscur would have been…”

Jeralt shook his head and slapped the kid on his shoulder. “Look, I know your life hasn’t been easy, but if all you do is wallow in your guilt you can’t move on.”

“It sounds easy when you say it.”

“But it isn’t easy to act on it, yeah, yeah, I get that. We’re all burdened with our regrets but that’s life.” Jeralt glanced over at the still closed doors of his son’s room. “I’m surprised he didn’t pick your house, honestly.”

“I admit I was hoping to converse with him more myself after all he’s done.” A sad smile crept on his face. “Is what Glenn told me true? He has no memory of his time in Faerghus nine years ago?”

“Ah, no.” Right, the two had seen each other that one time. Funny little reunion, this. And not the only reunion, Jeralt realized. “Have you… do you know about Edelgard, as well?”

Dimitri’s eyes nearly leapt from his skull and he quickly ensured their surroundings were clear before answering. “That my stepmother was Edelgard’s birth mother? That she is my stepsister? Yes, I am aware, Jeralt. Even if Edelgard does not seem too.”

“Hard to remember someone you never met.”

“Yes…”

Wait, had they met? Lambert and Volkhard couldn’t possibly have been so careless. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Your Highness!” The boy from Duscur came running up with all his size. “I asked you to inform me if you ever wished to traverse the monastery grounds.”

“I am in no danger of assassins here, Dedue.”

“Assassins are not the only thing to worry about.”

“Relax kid,” said Jeralt. “You smother him like that, he's gonna resent you.”

Dimitri protested fast, “I would never!—”

“His Highness may resent me all he wishes if it keeps him safe.”

He was more Faerghus than a Faerghus man. “How’d someone from Duscur end up working for the royal family anyway?”

“That is not a story to be shared so readily,” said Dimitri.

“His Highness saved my life.”

“Seems fine to share to me.”

Dimitri couldn’t, though. “But if only we had been sooner—”

“Your Highness, it was your intervention that saved my life. Saved the lives of my parents and siblings. Duscur remains only because of you.”

“As little more than slaves!” Dimitri was hunching over. “Men who should defend the innocent and righteous instead—” Dimitri gripped his mouth. Unwilling to let things spiral even further.

This was far too heavy a conversation so early in the morning… “I think you need to take a break, Prince.”

“I… yes, I shall. Please convey my well wishes to your son.” Some light had returned to his eyes. But Duscur still blood clearly stained his soul.

“Sir Jeralt,” said Dedue, “I, too, owe you a debt. Not just for the prior night, but for the one eight years prior.”

“Save it. I got plenty of thanks from the prince.”

“Men of Duscur do not forget their debts. I will repay you one day as I intend His Highness, Duke Fraldarius and your son.”

Good grief, the students this year were far too serious…

Thankfully before it got any worse the doors to Byleth’s room opened and his son walked out.

* * *

**Great Tree Moon 27, Imperial Year 1180**

_ How long do you intend to lay in bed? _

Sothis’s voice ruined his mental exercises.

“Until you woke.”

_ Perhaps next time you should make an attempt to rouse me. _

“How?”

_ I… Hmmm, I am not quite sure myself. The current arrangement will not do in the company of others. There are, at times, when I can feel what you are thinking or feeling yourself, but not always are they clear. Like peering through a fog at midnight. _

Then how…?

_ For now we must keep this private. Best, that yes. _

She heard his intent that time. “Speaking with someone may be the only way we learn the truth.” The library, even the sections reserved for important staff, had nothing to offer.

_ Or became entangled in a web of lies.  _ He could  _ feel  _ her pout at the words. _ No. You and I alone are to be trusted. _

“There are those who can be trusted. My father, Rhea. Seteth and Alois as well. Others in the Blade” Perhaps Cassandra, Christophe and Glenn were they not so distant.

_ Then why is it that I feel such unease from you? Especially at the name Rhea? _

Because of Seiros. 

The War of Heroes. Nemesis, the 10 Elites and the Forgotten Hero. Legends with a lifespan beyond normal men.

It was an implausible idea to think Rhea had lived a thousand years. Nemesis of his dreams had hair long gone white yet Seiros may well have passed as Rhea’s sister for how little difference there was between them. Within the Holy Mausoleum rested eternal the saint of the church. To consider otherwise would shatter the entire doctrine of the church.

_ I mistrust her. Something about her strikes me askew The truth will come, if only we search for it. _

Just as her wakening did.

Thinking deeply on this was not solving their mysteries for now. There was one place that might yield the answers yet he could not intrude there while considering his new duties. One day perhaps, if Sothis continued to prove obstinate about speaking with Rhea.

More than enough time had passed and Byleth rose, readied himself and opened his doors. A white messenger owl flew into his room and delivered an assignment right on its perch. Rhea wanted a meeting. 

Unlike her to send an owl instead of a person.

Stranger still, was Jeralt, Dimitri, and Dedue conversing nearby. Which stopped once he noticed them.

Byleth approached his father, who said, “Hey, first time I’ve got the drop on waking up on you in a long time.”

“Is something amiss?” He looked at the students.

“Not really, they just wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

“Fine.”

“Good to hear, Professor,” said Dimitri.

Jeralt looked ready to sigh. “I was always taking care of everything when we were abroad. Seems I was right to worry about you. Make sure you take some time to converse with the students outside class. Keep their motivation up, you hear?” Though Dimitri looked confused.

That sounded sensible. “All right.”

“I’ll be here if you need anything. Or in my office, really. I’ll put in with Seteth to keep me and the Broken Blade on standby so we won’t be out running missions anytime soon.”

“If I do need anything, I’ll come.”

“OK. Good luck dealing with the br--students then.” 

Byleth looked at the students. “Did you need something else?”

“Hardly, Professor, I just wanted to greet you. It would simply be very rude of me to depart in the middle of a conversation.”

“If there’s nothing else…”

“There is not. Good morning, Professor.” He faced his silent companion. “Come Dedue, let me give you a hand in the greenhouse.”

“Your Highness such a task is beneath you.” Dimitri shook his head and explained the opposite, walking off and getting into quite the back-and-forth with the other boy.

Jeralt walked off too… and Byleth walked alongside them. “Err, do you need something already?”

“Rhea’s calling for me.”

“Oh.”

There wasn’t much to talk about after that, but before they could even reach the doors of the captain’s office another scene drew their attention. At the doors to the audience chamber were Seteth and a girl of academy age yet not bearing the uniform. Not a proper one, at any rate. It had its roots in the base design, but with a much more elaborate hem and a number of large ribbons tying it together. She had knee-high boots and black leggings to compliment it as well. Green hair, similar to Rhea, and similar to Rhea it covered her ears. Styled forward into curls and kept in place by two golden claspes.

“Forgive me Flayn,” said Seteth to the short girl, “but I am too busy to honor your request.”

“But Brother the ceremony is tomorrow.” Seteth had a sister?

“I know that but with the mock battle and Zanado--” he noticed the eavesdroppers. “Jeralt. Professor. A moment and I will join you in the audience chamber.”

“Ah, no,” said Jeralt, “I’m just going back to my office.”

“What request?” asked Byleth. Jeralt’s eyes widened for some reason.

“Ah, I am hoping to procure myself a carassius for tomorrow,” she said.

A crassius? “For a ceremony for honoring Saint Cethleann?”

She smiled and clapped her hands at his answer. “You are most well informed! Yes, it would be most undo not to have one.”

“I could fish one up after this meeting.”

She beamed with joy. “Would you? I would be ever-most grateful.” She put a hand over her heart and bowed. “I am Seteth’s little sister, Flayn.”

“You have my gratitude, Professor. Now, Flayn, would you excuse us, for the moment?”

“Of course, Brother.” She looked Byleth dead in the eyes. Eyes as green as her hair. “I will be waiting in the dining hall once your business is concluded.” She nodded and smiled and walked away.

“Huh.” Jeralt crossed his arms. “Never knew you had a sister.”

“And I am still unaware of your wife’s name, Jeralt.” Seteth didn’t quite snap. “We all maintain our secrets, do we not? I simply did not wish Flayn to be scrutinized due to her lineage.”

Jeralt gave him a look, shrugged and nodded. “Good point. Well, I’ll be going back now. Don’t run my kid too ragged, y’hear. And uh, gonna want to see you after you and Lady Rhea are done with him.”

“We cannot overburden him any further than you have,” replied Seteth.

Jeralt just laughed and waved it off, heading right back down to his office.

“Rather flippant, isn’t he?” Seteth seemed to fight back a smile. “Regardless, I wish to thank you for accepting my sister’s request.”

“It won’t be hard.”

“Difficulty is not the issue. She arrived not long after you left for the Ochs territory and the events for now have proven somewhat unsettling. I would appreciate it deeply if you watched over her. Especially if any rowdy youths approached her.”

Keep her away from Sylvain. “Understood.”

“You have my gratitude, now.” He turned towards the audience room. “We’ve kept Rhea waiting long enough.” A step inside and Seteth took his place at her side next to the throne.

“Hello, child. I trust you are spending your time with the students wisely?”

“As well as Jeralt ever did.”

She smiled at him. “What reassuring words. Now, what I ask of you is sudden, but it must be said. We will be holding the mock battle between the three houses on the final day of this moon.” Normally the mock battle was next moon. What changed? “Our reports from Shamir have located the brigands who targeted our students earlier this moon. Your task for the Harpstring Moon will be to prepare your students to eliminate these bandits once and for all.”

Ah, that was it. “Where have the bandits gone?”

“They have sought refuge within Zanado, the Red Canyon.”

Where the goddess once walked Fódlan. A perfect place to test if Sothis was the goddess of the church. “We will not let you down, Rhea.” Seteth bristled at the words.

“No, you will not.”

“Make sure to train your students thoroughly for both the mock battle and your future mission,” said Seteth. “It would damage the church’s reputation should such illustrious patronage meet misfortunate against simple bandits.”

“I will ensure all survive. They will be ready.” Less time to train for the mock battle meant he would need to rely further on his own prowess to compensate.

“Good. Your confidence has always been a most admirable trait. I can only hope you continue to act with such conviction in the future. Make preparations for their outfitting well in advance. We’ve no exact timeframe for when Shamir will contact us.”

With that Byleth was excused for the rest of the day.

* * *

Byleth followed his conversation back to Flayn, who was indeed standing in the dining hall, overlooking the fishing pond to the south while she did so.

“Finished already, Professor?”

“Yes. Fishing time.”

She clapped her hands. “Very good.” She pulled out a wrapped set of bait. “One carassius please!”

“I’ll have it soon.” He took the bait and stepped straight towards the pond. The closeness of the fishing pond hit his nose the moment he left the hall. The artificial lake fed in by aqueducts above and seeded with freshwater fish from all across Fódlan. Franz the fish keeper gave a knowing nod as Byleth stepped up to the wooden dock and cast a line. The clear waters of the pond let Byleth drift his line towards his intended target, the small fish hungering for the bait - the thrill of the tug and the tension in the line as he struggled in a battle for life and death and the struggle ceased with a strong pull upwards into the air.

One crassius hung from his line.

He prepared and cleaned the fish before returning to the girl.

“Oh, thank you. It would be most untoward to not honor the Saints when it is due.”

“Could you not catch one yourself?” She had perfectly selected bait.

“Oh, I could, I suppose. But something about fishing has always struck me as cruel. Ripping a living being from its home simply to consume it. Though I suppose to the fish it makes little difference who catches it when its ultimate fate remains the same.” Wry melancholy thinned her lips. “But enough of such unfortunate leanings, thank you, Professor. I am sure Saint Cethleann will be honored greatly by your catch.”

She rewarded him with some more bait. His tackle had emptied before their last deployment so he thanked her for the gift.

He could simply use the bait now, but the words of his father drifted back through his mind. The greenhouse was right there. Perhaps he could find why Dimitri seemed so keen to talk to him earlier.

He was among a fair number of others across the house. Dedue still at his side, Bernadetta in the corner trying to avoid everyone. Plants of all sixes, shapes and colors growing with wild abundance. Across pillars, up stone walls. Sucking in through the windows as much as water.

“Come to get your hands dirty, Byleth?” Midori, the greenhouse keeper, approached him.

Some of the students looked up at him. “Yes,” he responded.

“Kind of you.” She leaned in and whispered, “Give that Duscur lad a hand, won’t you? I think he wants to get some of his seeds planted but won’t request my permission.” “Why?” She leaned back with an unfortunate sad smile. “Some folks don’t want anything dealing with Duscur around. But someone who loves flowers like he does can’t be a bad person.” “Very well.” Midori shot him a happy smile. “You're the top, Byleth.”

Byleth took a knee near Dedue and started working with a nearby spade to pull the ripe plants and till the soil for the next crop.

Dedue noticed him. “Have you come to help with the plants?” “Yes.” “Good.” He pulled out a pack of seeds. “I request you plant these.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?”

“Men of Duscur should not insist.”

“Understood.” Byleth took the packet and brought it over to Midori. She sighed and took the seeds anyway. With them to be planted in any case, Byleth returned to Dedue.

“My thanks. It is practical to ensure a wide variety of edible plants. There is a dish I would like to make but the pantry was lacking in ingredients.” The monastery grounds could grow a full plant in a mere week. It was strange when people brought it up taking longer outside. Dedue pulled out a few more packets of seeds. “Here.” Byleth graciously took the seeds. “If you would like, I will also prepare the dish for you as recompense for your actions in Remire.”

“Dedue’s a wonderful cook, Professor,” said Dimitri. But the praise only caused Dedue to frown. “Come next week you will have the most delicious meal of your life.”

“Something to look forward to, then.” But for now… “Is there anything you wanted from me this morning, Dimitri?”

He shook his head. “I believe I have already explained myself.”

* * *

He spent the rest of the day conversing with the rest of the faculty and other students, informing the Black Eagles of the mock battle’s new date. Starting preparations for fitted armor and weapons. Preparing the ingredients for what they’d eat. But the sun needed to set, so he enjoyed a sleep not interrupted by the girl inside his head.

**Great Tree Moon 29, Imperial Year 1180**

The day before the mock battle was the perfect day to prepare some high quality rations and a meal to go along with it. Normally he’d cook with the Blade or Rhea or Manuela but for now it was the better idea to cooperate with one of his students. He could do it alone too, of course, but this was another good chance to assess the capabilities of his charges.

He’d start with Edelgard. Despite Bernadetta’s capabilities going down the roll list would be the more fair option. He called for her to stay after class (she dismissed Hubert) and gave the proposal.

“Cooking? Well, I never had a chance to cook in Enbarr. Are you sure? Bernadetta announced she was a much better chef.”

“I can prepare the meal myself. Think of this more as an assessment of how well we’d work together.”

“Turning a simple meal into a lesson doesn’t seem right. But I can’t fault your reasoning. Very well, my teacher.”

The two of them headed over to the busy dining hall, preparations already arranged with Head Chef Felicia ahead of time and the last bits of meat he had stored brought up.

“What are we making, my teacher?”

“We’re preparing some Duscur bear meat. We’ll ready half to be grilled, seasoned and readied into a king of beasts steak for today’s dinner. The other half we’ll dry and turn into jerky to use as rations for tomorrow.

“I’ve never had bear meat before. Is it good?”

“We’re in spring, so the bears will possess a bold, powerful flavor and a strong, chewy texture. Some of the kitchen staff say it makes one bolder.” Just kitchen gossip. But some confidence wouldn’t hurt for Bernadetta.

“What do you need me to do?”

“For now let’s lay out the meat and begin cutting the portions. Bear is very pungent so if it becomes unbearable, tell me.”

She chuckled a moment. “I think I can handle some smell.”

That’s what he thought the first time too. Much of the meat had already marinated in butter in the kitchen stores, leaving the first whiff free of the typical bear stench. But once they began cutting up the portions it started to expel some isolated pockets. Edelgard had to pinch her nose as she helped with the chopping.

“This would be much easier if I could use an ax or a sword.”

“I tried a sword once. It just made a mess.”

“Really? That seems… amusing.”

“Flora and Felicia weren’t.” Most of the butchering had already been done beforehand, so Byleth extended the spices and set the portions on the grills. The magic fires of the kitchen flaring up and burning bright.

“You seem quite adept at this. Who taught you?”

“Jeralt. Manuela. Rhea.”

“Lady Rhea taught you cooking personally?” She had that look of utter disbelief everyone had when he announced that.

Byleth grilled the meat as necessary. Magical cooking searing up the meat nice and quick. “She’s taught me many things.”

“I see.”

With the main dish in sight he led her to start cutting up flank strips for the jerky. Careful, thin, slices of equal shares. Which had some difficulty, as the butter had soaked in so thoroughly the meat was easy to tear. But with enough practice they were able to cut up a good few dozen stripes.

“I knew cooking took work but this is more than I expected,” said Edelgard, wiping sweat from her brow.

“This is fairly simple, as meals go.”

“When I return to Enbarr I’ll have to increase the wages for the palace chefs.”

Byleth nodded and returned to their cooking. Turning the bear steaks as necessary and making sure the black meat wasn’t showing any pink. For the jerky he led her in marinating it with a sweeter sauce that complimented the butter. When they salted it up it’d come together with a powerful and delectable burst.

With the marinade taken care of they had to let it sit and focused back on the steaks which were coming along nicely. 

“I never would have taken you for a chef, Professor.”

“Why not?”

“Am I correct in presuming you’ve lived in Garreg Mach your entire life?” He nodded. “Where you have access to the dining hall anytime you should please.”

“Someone needed to cook when we were deployed.”

“Normally that is undertaken by camp followers, not knights.”

Byleth shrugged. “The Broken Blade isn't a typical unit. We had to cover each other’s weaknesses more to compensate for a lack of standardization.” The meat sizzled on the grill. “Everyone learned to make something.”

“Not something I would expect from the church.”

Well, they weren’t part of the church at the time.

The two of them followed through on the rest of the instructions, making sure both the steaks and jerky were done well. Once the bear meat near the bone was cooked thoroughly they took it off the grill and unto the plates. Flora sent a runner off to retrieve the scattered Eagles when called for, and soon the entire class assembled. “Enjoy, everyone.” Plenty of thanks were given, to both him and Edelgard. 

And the assembled Eagles dug in. Caspar and Petra with gusto; Hubert took a slow first bite but briskly picked up his pace afterwards. Ferdinand and Dorothea ate their portions with a refined and elegant poise. Linhardt and Bernadetta were more reserved. They ate the meal before them, but clearly weren’t enjoying it as much as others.

And Edelgard was included in that latter number. Despite helping him produce the meal she seemed to only have a passing interest in finishing it.

Yet despite such trepidation everyone consumed their portions and thanked them both for the meal. For a moment it reminded him of the Blade.

But only for a moment.

**Great Tree Moon 30, Imperial Year 1180**

Byleth had prepared the Black Eagles as best he could, and prepared himself even more. The past few days he’d kept an eye on the Blue Lions and Golden Deer as they took their time training in the grounds. Learning their strengths, and weaknesses, and passing them on to the Eagles.

It was also Ferdinand’s birthday, unfortunately they did not have the time for tea, so Byleth purchased some birthday flowers for him, as tradition dictated. He was jubilant at receiving them before they headed off to regroup with the rest of the Black Eagles at the training grounds.

Edelgard and the rest awaited them, Ferdianand going off to join his classmates while Byleth went to discuss strategy with Edelgard. The Lions and Deer students congregating in their own meetings.

“Well, Professor, the mock battle is upon us,” she said. “This will be the best chance to evaluate your worth as my instructor. Do you think you can rise to the challenge?”

“We’ll emerge the victors.”

“So confident, how interesting.” Her smile went wide. 

“Hey there!” Claude and Dimitri interrupted. “Hope you don’t mind us joining in and learning all your strategic secrets.” He had a slight grin to go with his words.

Edelgard’s smile turned into a smirk. “Simply tell me all your weaknesses and you’re welcome to stay. But is there enough time to list them all? The year is only so long.”

“Oh, poor Princess, you can’t win without knowing my weaknesses.” Claude chuckled. “Or maybe you just want to spend time with me?”

“The only time we’ll be sharing is when I’m defeating you on the battlefield. Even whatever schemes you’ve got worked up won’t be enough.”

“Schemes? me? You wound my noble honor, oh fair Princess.”

Dimitri joined in the good cheer with a smile of his own. “Hearing Claude speak of honor can only be a bad omen.”

“Barely past a moon and you two have got me down, eh? I always knew I was the most interesting guy here.”

Dimitri’s eyes flashed over Edelgard and Byleth for a moment. “Well, teasing aside, I plan to fight honorably and forthright. I hope you plan to do the same, Professor, Edelgard. That said, I do plan on winning.”

“As do we,” Edelgard countered. “Right, Professor?”

“Make sure you hold nothing back.” 

He had to. It was the only way the students facing him would avoid serious injury. “No killing blows. I promise.”

“Awwww.” Manuela cooed as she and Hanneman arrived. “How adorable to see you all getting along already.”

“As pleased as I am watching the students bond already, we have a faculty meeting before our departure.”

Needed to make sure the equipment was ready. Byleth excused themselves as the professors made the final preparations for the monastery outskirts

* * *

The sky was clear and sunny. The ground was grass with the occasional dirt path. The whole of their location was situated between two crumbling cliff sides. To their front was a cover of trees and to the left another such growth. Beyond that waited Lorenz and Ignatz, the vanguard of the Golden Deer holding the west. Claude and Hilda situated themselves behind poorly assembled fencing as cover and more trees. They’d be difficult to engage directly. At the northwest Manuela stood guard over a barely-standing shack with the ancient healing tile in front. The long-forgotten magics would ensure her wounds mended so long as she occupied it. 

To the east Hanneman waited atop a crumbling old stone platform. Square pillars at the corners and a healing tile also at play. Dimitri and Mercedes waited between the two professors. With Dedue more forward, closer to another section of trees. Dotted about the whole of the battlefield were knights of Seiros in bright white outfits. Officials to judge legal hits and defeats.

In the skyline Garreg Mach rose high. Between mountain sides and cliff faces. Jeralt, Rhea and Seteth along with a host of knights taking position on a southern bluff to overlook the battle. The remaining students of the Lions and Deer with them as well.

The Black Eagles Byleth didn’t select would join them.

“How should we approach this battle, Professor?” asked Edelgard.

They were ready. Their stomachs full of jerky and their training weapons ready. They were armored in fitted pads and the occasional bit of metal. With only three additional allotments besides himself and Edelgard he needed to be tactical. He scrutinized what he learned of the opposition and came to a conclusion. “Hubert, Dorothea and Linhardt shall be our support.” Bernadetta was relieved but the rest of the Eagles set to watch were dour at the idea.

“Such an arrangement would leave our back line exposed,” Hubert pointed out.

“Our opponents are heavy on missile troops and their front lines lack resilience against magic. This is our best formation.”

“How should we approach our opponents?” asked Edelgard.

“We’re taking on both houses at once.”

“That’s quite bold of you.”

“Awww man!” Caspar groaned. “We’re gonna be fighting everyone and I don’t get a chance?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to deal with both factions separately?” Linhardt questioned the obvious.

“The more we take the faster we win.”

“And a faster win means more nap time.” Linhardt nodded. “Oh, very well, you have my attention.”

“I don’t know why they’ve chosen such vulnerable formations but we’ll take advantage of it all the same. Be weary of ambushes, especially from the Golden Deer.” Byleth laid out the battle plan as clearly as possible. Lorenz’s overconfidence would lead him to overextend, dragging Ignatz in with him and ruining whatever plan Claude had concocted. Ashe would advance to take as much advantage of the situation as possible but would be isolated and simple to overwhelm. 

“Our opponents are too heavy on missile troops, and that’s where our advantage lies.” Once the forward opponents were dispatched, the Black Eagles would advance on Dimitri’s position, drawing Claude and Hilda in to best take advantage of the conflict themselves. But the magic-inclined Eagles would let them sweep the Lions’ combatants and meet Hilda and Claude in the central forest, where the plant cover would impede their arrows and axs, more than the Eagles’ spells. Once they were cleaned up, Hanneman and Manuela could be defeated at leisure.

“It seems overly ambitious to assume the other professors will remain stationary,” Linhardt commented.

“Manuela might advance, but I believe Hanneman will remain in place.”

“Our professor is more familiar with either teacher than the rest of us,” said Edelgard. “We should trust in his judgement.”

“The other houses are ready,” shouted Jeralt, “are you?” Byleth nodded and the Eagles assumed their battle positions. Edelgard and he led the front, while the rest carried the rear.

“Let this year’s mock battle begin!” shouted Jeralt.

As Byleth predicated, Lorenz announced his intentions and rushed ahead, with an uncertain Ignatz following behind. Though the archer tried his best to cover for the leading lancemen, the large flourishes and excited swings of Lorenz made it difficult for practical support to be leveraged. Two against one, and better combatants both, Edelgard and Byleth wasted no time dispatching Lorenz.

“I lost?” His ego was more wounded than his body. The light taps of the wooden training weapons substituting for major hits and the gambeson prevented any serious injury. With disappointment plain on his face he walked off the battlefield.

Without his support Ignatz didn't not last long either. Running in opposing directions divided his attention and let Edelgard strike his flank with little trouble. Some actual smile on his lips and praise for the tactics. Ashe had ducked inside the eastern forest, but he was well out of range of hitting the vulnerable spellcasters. He sent a few shots at the advancing duo but it wasn’t enough to stop them.

“What boldness challenging two houses at once, Professor!” Dimitri’s voice boomed in the distance. “But it will not be so easy. On my name -- Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd -- advance!”

He and Dedue advanced as a pair of their own with Mercedes trailing behind. To the west Claude and Hilda vanished from their spots, advancing in silence of their own.

Byleth led the rest of the Eagles into a clash with the advancing Lions. Dedue in front packed great power in his ax swing but too much to make a quick follow up. But a quick thrust at Dedue’s side was blocked by an expertly timed movement of his arm. Deflating much of the force he leveraged. His observation on the training ground proving apt, Deduce had a solid understanding of taking blows.

On his opposite side he locked axs with Edelgard while retaining some caution towards Byleth. If he kept them locked, the incoming Dimitri would have free reign.

But he;d left himself utterly vulnerable to magic. Hubert’s orb of darkness, Dorothea’s restraining bolt and even Linhardt’s nosferatu took him down. A grimace took hold of him. Longing to stand alongside his leader even more.

Dimitri arrived a hair too slow and was completely outnumbered. “Though my numbers have waned I still plan to fight with honor. Come Edelgard; come, Professor! I await your challenge!” His lance leveled at Edelgard’s chest.

“He’s too straight-laced for his own good.” She frowned at the idea. “But I accept your challenge Dimitri!” Her ax met his lance. And though Edelgard was exceptional, so was Dimitri. She fought well, but Dimitri edged her out slightly in speed and power. Yet despite his advantage he either overlooked or ignored several attempts to inflict slight damage on her vulnerabilities. What he’d seen of Dimitri on the training grounds was accurate. He knew exactly how to handle him.

Dimitri and Edelgard exchanged heavy hits on one another, Dimitri’s lance impacting Edelgard’s stomach while her ax had taken a chunk of his side. Neither combatant was backing down. But they needed to take a breath.

With Claude advancing they didn’t have the luxury of letting the duel continue. Byleth intruded, earning Dimitri’s attention. Those few moments of combat taught Byleth everything he needed to know about Dimitri’s combat style. The lancer readied himself, and after a pause unleashed his massive attack -- right where Byleth expected. It took all his speed and power to deflect it -- the blow strong enough to hurt through the armor. But Dimitri’s lance and stance went wild while Byleth’s grip remained. He charged in and laid waste to Dimitri with three blows and Edelgard added two more. 

The official called it.

“Well fought, Professor, Edelgard.” He smiled as he withdrew from combat.

In the central forest Mercedes slowly left, being defeated by Hilda and Claude in the interim. Edelgard and Byleth rushed in, quickly spotting the two and calling out for spellcaster support. The final spells they could for the combat. Claude managed to dodge but Hilda got a nasty shock. When Byleth got close her ax counter was unfocused and he deftly dealt with her. “Finally,” she said on defeat and skipped out as soon as she could. Edelgard had closed in on Claude but took another hit, one more and she’d be out. But the two she delivered to Claude were enough to get him removed.

“Man, even taking on all of us you still won. Guess the Knights of Seiros aren’t renowned as the best around for no reason.” He left with that usual lackluster smile.

Manuela had moved up to support the Golden Deer, but for some reason had left her sword behind. Without any support she’d have a hard go of it. Byleth endured her nosferatu spell and closed in. She managed to dodge his first swing but the second one went at her neck and he checked himself and stopped. “Concede?” he asked.

She lightly smiled. “How gallant of you to give a girl the chance, Professor. Very well, you’ve won this round.”

With Manuela removed, the five of them had little difficulty surrounding Hanneman and dealing with him. He fought to the end and took his loss with good cheer.

Jeralt’s voice cleared the air to announce the winner. “The winner of the mock battle is: the Black Eagle House!”

The members who sat on the side came running in filled with cheers while the other houses smattered applause in defeat.

“Excellent work, my teacher,” said Edelgard once the Black Eagles had gathered. “Though our victory should come as no surprise.”

“It was simple.”

“That it was.” She smirked at his words. “You’ve more than proven yourself well suited to lead the Black Eagle House.”

“That was impressing, Professor!” said Petra. “I mean, that was impressive. Your leadership did much good work.”

“It certainly did,” added Dorothea. “We all did our best and you did best of all.”

Ferdinand said, “I was curious to see what would happen if you did not hold back--”  _ But I did.  _ “--and I was not disappointed!”

Hubert did not share in the praise of his contemporaries, with a snort he said, “I daresay we owe this victory to Lady Edelgard. Had she not engaged Prince Dimitri for so long our professor’s strategy would have gone awry.”

“How so?” said Linhardt. “Was it not the professor’s strategy that led her to engage him? Sure, she was an incredibly effective soldier, but only because of his leadership.”

“Ah who cares about any of that,” Caspar butted in. “We’ve won! That means it’s time to celebrate!”

“Hey, Professor, if you can make it so I don’t go back to the battlefield just like today that would be perfect,” said Bernadetta.

They were certainly carefree. And their behavior regarding him was concerning. It would change, like it always did, but for now he’d accept it.

Edelgard braced her forehead with a gloved hand as she sighed. “You are all as ridiculous as always. We only managed to win because we came together.” Everyone stopped to give her a flat look of shock and confusion which Byleth didn’t quite get. She wanted him to treat her all the same as them, after all. “Was it something I said?” She seemed ready to relent entirely. “Do you really find it so odd that I would talk about togetherness? Clearly that must change. Professor, instead of celebrating we should hold a seminar on comradery right away.” Caspar was already moving to complain when Edelgard continued, “I’m kidding. Come on. We’ve earned this victory, of course we should celebrate.”

The rest of the Eagles began to chat away and prepare, and slightly after Hanneman and Manuela asked his attention.

Hanneman spoke first, “Would you care to join Manulea and myself for drinks afterwards? A little bonding now that you’re officially our colleague. And do not worry, I’ve already selected a fine drinking establishment and not one of Manuela’s crass favorites.”

“Those ‘crass’ places are loads more fun than some stuffy-upper-crust place where drinking is optional.”

“I could use a pint.” Broken Blade weren’t allowed to drink on tour and he didn’t want any distractions the last time he was in Garreg Mach.

“Wonderful. We’ll pick you up an hour after you’re done. And after we console our classes.”

* * *

All the cheer followed them back to Garreg Mach, to the dining hall and all its dishes. Food served aplenty and shouts even more.

During a lull in the jubilation, Edelgard pulled him aside. “I want to thank you for your actions in private, my teacher.”

“This doesn’t need to be done in private.”

She shook her head. “That is not the important part. I worried that you would think of my position and leave command of the battle to me. Like the other professors did with their house leaders. Yet you were willing to overlook it all and command me like any other common soldier.”

“As I said I would.”

“Some people find it difficult to act in accordance with what they say.”

“I don’t.”

“I see that now.” She smiled. “And I look forward to more of that in the future.” She excused herself.

The Black Eagles this year were certainly a different bunch.

* * *

“To the Academy’s newest professor!” Hanneman raised a glass of amber liquid and Manuela and Byleth tipped their glasses to it. “I thought all the missions I undertook during my tenure had prepared me for fighting but it seems I have much to learn even at my age.”

Byleth took a sip of the delightful ale. “Hey! Manuela shouted. “You didn’t praise me like that when my class won last year.”

“Oh come now, Manuela, let’s let our new colleague enjoy a moment without needless blather, would you?”

“Don’t turn this around on me old man.”

“Let’s get along now.” Byleth tried to get them under control.

“Right, right.” Hanneman nodded. “We are here to celebrate, not bicker.”

“As long as he can keep his lips from flapping.”

“Flapping? I am not some high-pitched fowl like yourself.”

“Fowl?! Why you—!”

Ah, well, this was how they always were. Byleth took his drink in with the show.


	5. Harping Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I got a job. Crazy.

**Harpstring Moon 1, Imperial Year 1180**

Byleth took to the training grounds before the sun even rose. A few more days of rest would have been better than returning to training right after the mock battle, but his substantial increase in duties meant he had to optimize his time. Accounting for lesson plans, instruction, his own training, and Rhea’s orders and meetings along with all the necessities of life left him considerably more active.

The training grounds itself was mostly empty. A few other early risers and the yawning night shift were the only other occupants under the fading moonlight and torches. He followed through with his usual routine of swords, martial arts and magic, but added in a few attempts with other disciplines as well. He had to maintain flexibility for the students’ sake, even if he was unlikely to overcome them in their areas of expertise.

He followed through on his training until the sunlight overtook the torchlight for illumination.

“Ah, hello, Professor,” Dimitri interrupted just before he left. He was already kitted out in his proper attire and gripping a worn lance of his own. “A little training before the day begins proper, yes?” “Yes.” “Wonderful. May I join you? If I’m not intruding, that is.”

Maintaining proper conduct across houses was a vital part of his duties. “That’s fine.”

“I’d like to request a spar, if that’s OK with you? Your display yesterday showed me I have much to learn. In tactics and in combat.”

Byleth consented and the two took to the duelling ring. Others dropped their own training to come watch. His arms were slightly fatigued, but not enough to concede significant enough advantage to Dimitri to let him win. His opponent gripped the lance, tight — too tight. 

Like Edelgard. 

Even if their prior exchange taught Byleth who had the stronger arms. All Byleth needed was one solid blow and he’d ruin Dimitri’s chances of winning. 

If the man’s strength didn’t betray him first.

“Begin.” 

So it didn’t. Dimitri stood, waited patiently for Byleth to make the first move, so he obliged. Taking careful steps in, tracking Dimitri’s slight movements, his eyesight, his grip. The student thrusted - straight at the heart and straight into Byleth’s guard. He blocked the strong stab, strong enough to bruise and sting hands even with wood. But it was not enough to upset balance when Byleth was bracing for it. Dimitri pulled back, only to come with even more force, another attempt at a single decisive blow. Yet equally easy to read and Byleth smacked it aside.

He turned to offense himself, showering Dimitri’s lance with light blows and applying little real pressure yet he stood there and took it. Byleth readied himself for a heavier blow and Dimitri saw his chance, engaging in another full thrust himself. Thinking he’d learned.

But hadn’t. 

Byleth avoided the predictable attack and slipped in, sword tip moving in and towards Dimitri’s chin.

He laughed. “I yield, Professor.” Byleth withdrew his blade as Dimitri did his lance. “Even while you are tired from training it seems I am no match for you. Are my movements so easy for you to read?”

 _Yes._ “You moved only for the finishing blow. You avoided trying to wound your foe.”

He frowned at the assessment. “Is it so wrong to want to avoid bringing undo suffering? If I must fight I’d prefer it to be done with as little pain as possible.”

“Even should such slow action bring danger to allies elsewhere?”

“That… that is…” Dimitri viciously shook his head. “I-I understand the logic you’re trying to present, I do. Yet even still, my heart cannot condone inflicting suffering when I can avoid it.” Dimitri sighed. “I realize even if I do minimize injury, if I strike only for the kill I still spread anguish. The man I kill may be a father, or son or husband. But I would consider it the duty of a knight to avoid spreading as much pain as possible.”

Words. Words that sounded nice. “I’ve said my piece. The world will be your teacher for upholding such principles.”

“I suppose that is true.” The grief that had dominated seemed to fade. “Yet I would prefer that we need never come to blows in the first place.”

“Then why are you at the Officers Academy?”

“I wonder…” His eyes faded, just for a second. “But, really, that is enough about me. What about you, Professor? Have you ever, say, been to Faerghus?”

“A number of times. Most on assignment.”

“I hope there are some good memories there. But from that ‘most’ I would presume you had a time of leisure?”

“Jeralt and I visited Fhirdiad eight years prior.” The year of Duscur. “But my memories of such a visit are gone.” Mostly.

“Ah, that is a shame.” He tried to keep his face neutral but the corners of his mouth dropped.

“Did you need anything else?”

“Ah, no. Thank you for your time, Professor. Regardless of our separate classes, I still look forward to spending time together.” Dimitri left with a good-bye.

Something hung unsaid under his words. Even if Byleth couldn’t tell what it was.

* * *

The audience room was aglor with gentle dawnlight as Byleth entered the chamber. Rhea and Seteth await him at the foot of her throne. “Your victory in the mock battle was splendid,” she said, smiling as gentle as the light around them. “You have long stood a bastion of this church’s strength and I am proud to see you share our glory with the students. I hope you have spent the time so far bonding with your students.”

“I did.” As much as anyone bonded with him.

“Wonderful. I pray you will grow even closer over this school year.”

“Keep diligent in your duties,” said Seteth. “Your true test will await with the Battle of the Eagle and Lion during the Wyvern Moon.” The scale was incomparable compared to the mock battle. The full classes and full commands would be readied and unleashed across Gronder Field.

“Now, regarding the bandits desecrating Zanado.” Rhea’s face twisted at the words. “Shamir has assured us they will be contained before the end of the month. 

“Why is it taking Shamir so long to track them?” She once found him when he was hiding in the library’s upper levels. Some bandits certainly couldn’t be that difficult.

“The many passes of the Red Canyon could easily allow these fiends to escape.” Rhea’s face flashed with the same fury he’d seen on Seiros’s. “That we cannot allow. Ensure none elude the goddess’s judgement.” And just like that she was back to her gentle features and warm, welcoming smile. “I have high hopes for you. I always have.”

“Now,” said Seteh, “please inform your students of your task and begin preparations. This will be the first real test of leadership for these future officers, so another practice battle with the knights will be readied to assess their command capabilities. Speak with Jeralt regarding troop distributions and be ready. Shamir could report success at any time.”

The two of them excused themselves over to the advisory room.

 _Bandits she says._ Sothis’s voice broke into his mind.

“Where were you the past weeks?” he whispered.

_Resting, as much as you have. My strength is not without limit, nor is yours._

“Do you… remember Zanado?”

_I have no recollection of the name. Yet, what is this yearning within my chest at that word?_

Every conversation became more suspicious. As did the goddess’s judgement when he heard no such words from her…

Jeralt was waiting the moment he stepped outside the audience room. “Hey, I got word about your first mission. Lady Rhea isn’t letting me accompany you, but I arranged for Alois and the Broken Blade to be assigned to you. Along with some other soldiers and mercenaries. With Shamir and her troops lurking around the edges this shouldn’t be too difficult but you shouldn’t get carless.”

He would not be so careless again. Though relying on the Blade would cripple any chance the students had of learning. “And here.” Jeralt pulled out an old book that hadn’t seen much use, but was falling apart all the same. “It’s my old tactics primer. Give it a read over and share it with the brats.”

“Thank you.”

Jeralt chuckled. “Make sure you keep your guard up. Even if you’re accompanied by a battalion of veterans most of these kids won’t have the experience to use them to their best, so be mindful.”

He’d need to test them out first. “I will.”

* * *

Byleth gathered the Black Eagles in their classroom and gave them the news. Excitement arose from some: Caspar and Ferdinand. Worry from Dorothea and Bernadetta. Casual acceptance from the rest.

“The last time we fought bandits you saved me,” said Edelgard. “Perhaps I can return the favor this time.”

It would be careless beyond measure to let that happen.

It would be beyond carless to not use the moment. “I’m giving the entire class an assignment,” he announced. “You know our mission for the month, so I want each of you to come up with your own individual battle plans on how to handle these bandits.”

“Do we really need something fancy for a bunch of bandits?” Caspar barely kept a groan from slipping out.

“Always. Even bandits can be dangerous if you’re careless.” Edelgard didn’t slip any emotion but she knew it was meant for her.

“So are you handing supreme command over to us, Professor?” said Hubert. The faint traces of a smirk crossing his face.

“I will retain on-field command with my own plan.” He looked over his students. “However, should I receive a battle plan superior to my own we will adopt it going forth.”

There was a quiet murmur between the Eagles. “So,” said Edelgard, “this is as much a test to see if we can surpass you as well, is it?”

“You may think of it that way.”

Ferdinand laughed. “Then I will show you tactics that would astound even Count Bergliez!”

He would look forward to that.

**Harpstring Moon 2, Imperial Year 1180**

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and signs of life returned all throughout the academy. His bed was made, room clean and his clothes were flawless as ever. Yes indeed it was another wonderful day for Ferdinand von Aegir!

He made the customary greetings to his fellow early risers before taking a trip down to the training grounds. Already were the vanquished Blue Lions and Golden Deer practicing; looking to make quite the turn around for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion no doubt! But they would have to work thrice as hard as him to achieve victory. And as he readied a wooden lance and skewered a dummy showed he had no intention of letting that happen. He may not have contributed much beyond moral support in the mock battle but come the future he would show off skills that even put Edelgard to shame!

He worked up quite the sweat ensuring his thrusts and footwork maintained their superb quality. Had they any classes for the day, he would have indulged in a bath before rejoining his classmates or socializing. (Or even taken a trip to the sauna.) But as it was he committed to ensuring the whole of his list of daily training was taken care of first. 

Firstly was bringing over training weapons that had snapped over to the blacksmith near the markets, then delivering her supplies over to the knights’ hall. From there was work in the stables, ensuring the barding was intact, the horses were groomed and their oats were plentiful. Then just behind the stables was a negligent overgrowth of vegetation on a backpath that he could not let stand! He found young Cyril nearby and convinced the dedicated lad to loan him some garden shears so that he might combat such a green menace! 

Whence that was done he continued his gardening by making sure no other overgrowths had visited their reach upon the cobblestones and took it as a sign to help in the greenhouse as well.

It was a more-than productive day, all things considered! Even if the day was not quite done and it lacked in formal social graces, one needed to maintain a healthy respect for commons’ work to be a true noble.

“Hm, Ferdinand? You were not scheduled for greenhouse duty today.”

The sudden interjection of Seteth caught his attention. “I was not. I simply took initiative of my own volition.”

“A commendable attitude. It is not as common as it should be for the nobility to lend a direct hand of aid.”

“Nobility who cannot understand the plight of the commoners have no duty calling themselves noble.”

“I imagine such an attitude will earn you enemies one day. Frank as it is, people in power do not like that power being threatened.”

“Who does?” Ferdinand was forced to shrug. “If I may pry, what is it you are doing here in the greenhouse?”

“Myself? I was simply checking on the growth of some flowers I set some time ago.”

“Ah, do you have an interest in botany then?” That would be a good fit for Bernadetta.

A slight smile crooked his lips. “No, nothing so whimsical as that. I am merely growing them for practical use.” Seteth stepped aside to inspect a tiny flowering with tiny white petals. “Growing well, as expected.”

“The greenhouse of Garreg Mach is simply astounding with its bountiful nature, do you not think so?”

“Indeed. Yet another gift the goddess has granted us.” Seteth affixed him with a soft stare. “As Saint Cichol has blessed you with his Crest as well.”

“I have overheard you possess a Major Crest of Cichol.” Professor Hanneman could be unreasonably loud. “The first recorded since the saint himself, to my knowledge. Perhaps we are distant relatives, you and I?”

“An unlikely scenario, but in consideration of your work ethic not one I’d be against.”

It was a simple, small, pleasant chat but it certainly was a refreshing one. Seteth excused himself after a time and Ferdinand eventually finished his own help in the greenhouse, leaving the rest of his day free.

After a refreshing bath to make sure he was properly hygienic for the dining hall, Ferdinand sought out a worthy partner among the gathering masses in the food depository. Certainly there was a fair share of charming ladies and splendid fellows. His eyes settled on someone he’d conversed little with, yet was a neighbor-to-be.

“Hello, Lysithea,” he greeted the young Golden Deer girl. “Would you perchance wish to share a meal with me?”

She spun on her heels, staring into him with her light pink eyes. “Hello Ferdinand. Thank you for the offer but I’m quite busy and not in the mood for conversation.”

“I see. I was hoping to speak of Imperial-Alliance relations considering the close proximity of our two territories, but if such a topic does not fascinate you as it does me I will not press.”

“Hrym territory is closer than yours.”

“Indeed it is, but as my father is currently overseeing its affairs—” _in whatever possibly corrupt manner he always did_ , “—I proceeded with a presumption and thought it beneficial to establish diplomatic ties as early as possible.” Something he would be attempting with Lorenz one day, as well.

But for whatever reason the look she gave him back was disgust and spite! “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

“Something upsetting it seems, but praytell what among my words is so devastating for you to hear?”

Sher shook her head and nearly blanched. “Forget it, I don’t have the time to deal with your level of ignorance.”

“Me? Ignorant?” True, father always did keep things from him, rarely could those things be considered good, but if things were so dire as she seemed to be insinuating he surely would have heard something amongst the aristocracy. 

“Yes, you. Now please leave me be.”

Yes, he well should for both their sakes.

With her words ringing in his head he found himself his own dining partner. Trying to make sense of it all. The Hrym rebellion and its consequences were well-known across Fódlan, but what could she know that he did not as a citizen of the Empire? All these thoughts and more found no answers as he finished his meal. He would have to investigate at a future date.

Perhaps a spot of tea would soothe his nerves.

“Ferdinand,” the professor arrived with his name on his lips, “would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Would I ever!”

* * *

Professor Byleth had procured use of the garden gazebo, which was remarkable in and of itself. His own attempts had resulted in naught but refusals and shakes of the head from the groundskeeper. He did not want to levy an accusation of nepotism but it was his first thought.

Unfortunate thoughts aside, the stoic professor had a taste nearly refined as his! The decor was tasteful and subtle, accenting the arrangement of their natural view. The pastries were appealing in both smell and appearance without crossing into gaudiness that too many pretentious nobles used. His tea set was a simple white, but its unassuming appearance let the fragrance of the tea itself stand out. That wonderfully strong fruity scent hit his nose and he just had to ask, “How ever did you find my favorite tea, Professor?” Southern Fruit Blend was not a tea noted for its rarity but its taste was powerful and fragrant and always went well with the attitude Ferdinand strove for.

“It is?” He didn’t look or sound confused despite his words. “It was one of the few I had left in stock.”

“Then it is a wonderful coincidence.” Ferdinand took a refined sip and let the taste dominate his pallet. “Having one of my favorite teas always brightens my day.” Perhaps he could locate one of Lysithea’s, should they ever continue their conversation from before.

“Then I’m glad.” The professor took a sip himself with his natural disposition.

“Not to seem ungrateful, Professor. But for what reason did you give me this invite?”

“The mock battle occurred on your birthday and I missed it.”

Ferdinand had to force himself to retain composure at such a noble soul. “You are too kind, Professor. Those flowers you bought for me were present enough.” Perhaps one day he’d even return the favor.

The two of them spent time chatting about a variety of subjects ranging from nobility to horsemanship to Edelgard and Imperial politics. Even if he was not the most exciting conversational partner, the evenness with which the professor answered everything was truly impeccable. Indeed, even his comments on the church of Seiros itself seemed incredibly unbiased. Not that he had much pleasure conversing with the knights but he would not be surprised if they were more forthcoming with praise for the church.

When the tea ran out their little party was at its end. With one more grace of thank you the two departed. And Ferdinand believed that deep down Byleth was smiling as he was. One day he’d even make sure of it.

**Harpstring Moon 4, Imperial Year 1180**

Byleth took a seat in the dining hall as Dedue maneuvered to the kitchen proper to ready the meal. The Blue Lions’ boy had caught him after a training session and after a little shat brought out the outstanding dinner invitation. 

It was not the most trafficked of times, there were only a few other people consuming. Big eaters like Caspar, Ingrid and Raphael foremost among them. 

Dedue was given incredible leeway in the kitchen. None of the staff seemed keen to come near him except the department heads. A disgrace to the teachings.

When Dedue finished he came out with a steaming hot plate that he laid before him. “Enjoy, if it suits you.”

“None for yourself?”

“I have already partaken my fair share.” He proceeded to stand.

“You won’t sit either?”

“It does not do for the chef to sit with his guest.”

“I’ve sat with my guests plenty of times after I’ve cooked.”

Dedue took a moment to ponder this before taking the seat across with a, “Very well.”

Byleth could finally turn his attention to his plate. Duscur bear he recognized at a glance after having prepared it recently, but the herbs and earth-toned vegetables accompanying it weren’t anything he was familiar with. They seemed to be keeping the juices from the bear soaked into the meat and completely eliminated the musky smell itself.

Byleth took his utensils and dug in—and was met with such an explosion of flavor that his eyes went wide. “It’s good.” He savored the taste of meat hitting all the right flavors of juicy and soft accented by the herbs which redoubled it into a bounty of taste that made his jerky taste utterly amateurish. With a second bite he added, “It’s very good.” And with the third, “Maybe the best I’ve ever tasted.” Manuela and Rhea were exceptional cooks themselves, but Dedue’s offering had a flavor striking strongly familiar with subtle layers of delicious unknowns.

“You are not smiling.”

“I never smile.”

“So I have noticed.” Dedue furrowed his brow. “You are like His Highness. He too, never smiles when he eats my food.”

Someone’s tongue would have to be dead to not consider this wonderful. “Does he think this is poor?” He’d never heard anything notable about Faerghus’s cooking traditions.

“Oh, he praises me highly and widens his lips but his eyes do not match.” Like Claude. “It is a dream of mine to one day have him smile earnestly and praise my cooking.”

Byleth took a fourth bite and explored the sweetness of the greens giving him. “With food like this I am certain one day he will.”

**Harpstring Moon 9, Imperial Year 1180**

With a little dust of makeup on her face, her favorite satchel at her side and her boots hiked high Annette was ready to take on the day! One step out her door and Mercie was already waiting with her smile and a wrapped bag of treats. “Happy birthday, Annie!” her best friend forever said.

“Awww, thanks, Mercie.” Annette retrieved the little bundle and snuck just a tiny peek inside to some sweet tarts. “You’re just the best.”

Mercie giggled. “That’s as sweet as these sweets.”

“I’ll make sure to give you a good old batch back on your birthday.” With Mercie’s birthday coming up at the end of the month there wasn’t that much time to get better. Even if it took her a few tries it would be worth it.

“Don’t go out of your way for me.”

“Helping you out’s always in my way.”

Mercie smiled big and wide. “I managed to get a reservation in the Dining Hall, one of the corner tables. If you want to invite anyone else we’ll have room for eight more.”

Maybe… maybe if Father… “I’ll keep an eye out.” Of course she’d want to bring in all their friends from the Blue Lions but they might be busy with chores or training and she couldn’t impose. Maybe get someone else from across the houses? Caspar was always hungry and Lysithea loved sweets as much as them. Maybe Professor Hanneman too! And Professor Hanneman was right next to someone else important...

After their daily activities were finished Annette went around inviting her friends. Filling up most of the seats real quick but she had a few extra. She gave out a few invites across the houses but people were just as busy as she expected. 

Along the way to the second floor she spotted Cyril scrubbing down some of the corridor corners. Every time she saw him he was working hard like this. “Heya Cyril,” she said, “need a hand?”

“Nah, I got this,” he said without even looking up. “You’re probably real busy with somethin’ anyway.”

Well she was. “That’s not an excuse to leave someone alone if you see they need help.”

“I don’t need any help. This is my job, and I gotta do it.”

“But if it takes too long, then when are you gonna eat?”

That finally got him to look up from the floor, even if he still kept scrubbing it. “Huh? What are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m having a get together of all my friends later and I’d be happy if you’d join.”

“Uhh, no thanks. I’ll be busy around that time anyway.” He turned back to his work.

“I never even told you the time!”

“I’ll still be busy.”

 _Well in that case!_ Annette got down on her hands and knees, grabbed a rag and started scrubbing alongside.

“What are you doing?”

“If you finish this early then you’ll be free.”

“But if I have to correct all your mistakes it’ll be even longer.”

“Hey! I don’t mess up. That much anyway.” _How did someone stain the ground in a corner this badly?_

Cyril groaned. “If I say I’ll come will you let me do my job?”

“You sure you don’t want my help?”

“Yes.”

Annette threw the rag back in the bucket and stood up. “I’ll make sure to save you the tastiest piece of cake there is!”

“But I don’t—” she couldn't hear him finish because she had to get up to Professor Hanneman’s room as quick as she could. That little detour was using time she couldn’t waste! Though when she finally got there, Professor Hanneman declined with a frown.

But it was also right down the hall from another important office.

Annette knocked on the door. “Hello? Sir Jeralt are you in?”

“Hm? Yeah, come on in, kid.” Annette entered into the tidy office of the captain of the knights. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help me look for someone.”

“Someone missing? Must be someone pretty important to come to me directly instead of one of the other knights.”

“No—well, yes someone is missing, just not in the way you’re thinking.”

The scarred face of the captain seemed to hone in recognition. “Right, you’re Annette Dominic...”

“Yep, that’s me. You wouldn’t happen to have seen a man with hair like mine and…” and what else? What else could she remember about her father beyond his hair color? “..he likes carving puppets? Oh and he’s very devot!” _In Garreg Mach. Like every person here. Don’t be a dope Annette!_

Sir Jeralt answered with a big sigh. “Yeah I know whom you’re talking about... Gustave but…” Jeralt leaned back in his chair. “He’s on assignment right now. Won’t be back for a few months. Verdant Rain Moon, I think.”

Three months. Three months before she could see her father again and ask him why. Why did he leave them? Three months was nothing compared to eight years. She could do this. “Could I ask a teensy tiny favor…”

“If Lady Rhea or Seteth want to send him off I can’t really stop them,” he anticipated her question. “I really shouldn’t be doing this… but I won’t send him out either. I’ll let you know, kid. Or Byleth maybe and let him tell you.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much!” She gave him the biggest smile she could.

“That’s more than enough. If you want to—oh, hey Son, give me a minute we were just finishing up.”

Annette turned to see the professor standing in the doorway. “I was here for Annette, actually.”

“Huh, well, take her away then.” Jeralt had a look that screamed “that sounded bad” but he just shrugged and made Annette wonder how he became captain with an attitude like that.

The two of them stepped out in the hall. “What did you need me for, Professor?”

“I’d like to extend an invitation to tea, today.”

“Wow, like, now?”

“Whenever you’re free. You’re always working hard so I was unaware if you had something planned beforehand.”

“I think I could squeeze you in.” The dinner wasn’t for another few hours and she had an open slot between cleaning and training. “Where at?”

“Garden gazebo.”

“Wow, good spot! I’ll get there as soon as I can!”

She spent the next few hours doing exactly what she said she’d do before meeting him right where they said.

“Hello, Professor,” she said on arrival, taking the seat opposite him. “Thank you for inviting me to tea!” He nodded, and served the cup which she delightfully took. “Oh wow! Sweet-apple? How’d you know my favorite?” She cheerily took a few sips and a few bites of the apple tarts he brought. “Heh, these are really good. Not as good as Mercie’s, but they’re really tasty.”

“I’ll have to get some baking tips from her later then.”

“You made them yourself? That’s a lot of work for someone not in your house.”

“I don’t think that’s an excuse not to have a spot of tea for your birthday. Though it sounded like you had other plans?”

“Ah, Mercie was planning something later but I was all free up right now!” She giggled. “You could come too, if you want! We have an open seat.”

“No thank you.” He shook his head. “You don’t give yourself much free time, do you? I see you training hard or working hard on assignments more often than not.”

She nodded along. “Yep, I gotta give it my all all the time. If I don’t I…” She dropped the smile for a second. “Well, let’s not talk about that.” It returned just like that.

They spent a few more minutes chatting away. Annette asking for seconds of tea along the way. “That was a wonderful time, Professor. I hope you invite me again.”

“One more thing.” He pulled out a small vase with a few honeysuckles sticking out.

“Birthday flowers too? Aww geez, Professor, you’re spoiling me. Hope you’re not planning on getting me to defect from the Blue Lions.” She giggled. “Thanks again for the tea, Professor! And the flowers are great too!”

She had to hurry and get everything back to her room before running back to the dining hall and helping set everything up. Even if it was her birthday she couldn’t let everyone else do the work. Even Professor Byleth chipped in, even if he refused her spot invitation.

The food was good, the friends greater and Mercedes best of all. Cyril was true to his word even if he wasn’t as excited for the cake as he should be. It was a wonderful birthday. As wonderful as any of them ever could be.

Even with someone still missing.

She’d make sure the next birthdays she’d be a part of were even better.

**Harpstring Moon 11, Imperial Year 1180**

Byleth’s sword took aim at Rhea’s side but with a skillful deflect and short step she avoided it completely. She rounded her wrist and followed with a thrust at his side but he spun into the flat and swung at her neck. Rhea stepped in as she brought her sword up and just narrowly stopped his attack.

She smiled despite the sweat cressing her brow and aimed the tip of her blade at his eye. Byleth pulled back just barely out of range but her position was superior and she kept just perfectly in range to allow her thrusts to connect while he had to foolishly rely on blocking and concede any attempts at offense.

She was dictating their spar utterly. With a grace and cunning that was the utter opposite of the fury and recklessness that prevailed for Seiros.

He had to take a risk to win.

He understepped backwards, let Rhea come at with a thrust barely in reach—he ducked further back, low to the ground. With a hand on his blade he harshly struck down and just narrowly prevented her blade from hitting and he exploded upwards legs, body and arms to take the edge to her neck. Her point hit his thigh.

“I will concede this match to you, dear child.”

Not the cleanest of victories but a win all the same.

The two of them stored their weapons and retired to the nearby table on the veranda.

“Your form has improved so much since last we tested each other,” she said to him as she poured glasses of water.

He gratefully took the glass and downed it. “I have to keep myself mastered for the sake of the students.”

“You are doing a splendid job from all that I have heard and seen. And not simply with your wards. The other knights and professors have nothing but praise for your ceaseless dedication.” Strange. Why had things changed after so many years? “Do you disagree?” A slight hint of worry crossed Rhea’s face.

“I am… unfamiliar with such situations.”

Her worry deepened into a frown. “Yes… I admit my treatment of you might have set you on a pedestal for others to tear down to cover their own weakness.” But just as quickly cheer replaced it. “I am glad to see that others finally see what a special child you are. What the goddess and I have always seen.”

_You are not so great._

Sothis’s words made him jump from his seat.

 _Finally earned a reaction from you, did I?_ “Is something the matter?” Rhea had flashed back to concern so quickly Byleth hadn’t even seen it.

He retook his seat. “It’s nothing.”

“I see. If you’ve any concerns, please, I am always available to you.”

_Do not say a word._

Rhea would never… “I will, thank you.” Was that… disappointment, he saw? “Perhaps next week we can focus on martial arts.” She was one of the fiercest brawlers he’d ever seen.

Just like Seiros.

Why was he so committed to this narrative? He’d shake his head to clear the thought in any other company.

“Something _is_ worrying you, I can see it on your face.”

How? “It is nothing to be concerned with.”

“Any troubles you have are mine as well.”

Rhea could always be trusted. “There is something I’ve noticed lately.”

Her eyes shimmered alight and rose to attention. “Something important?”

“There are no depictions of Seiros’s face in any artistry I’ve encountered.” Statues and portraits to saints - famous and not - abounded in the halls of Garreg Mach. Yet their church’s namesake’s few pieces were vague and undefined. Features hidden behind a veil, or a turned head or helmet.

All her tension ebbed with an “Oh?” She did not spare a moment to ponder. “Perhaps the sculptors and artists of the time saw no need to depict her guise. Or kept it hidden for fear they could not depict her beauty. And all others long after kept the same out of tradition.”

The answer was too clear, too quick. “You’ve investigated this before?”

“Yes. It was from a source in the church’s hidden archives.”

Answers. “Could I access these archives?”

“Not until you become archbishop yourself.” She chuckled.

“Replacing you is impossible.”

Rhea gently shook her head. “Forgive my whimsy but this is not something I would jest about. You have a special destiny. A special life. A special upbringing. There are few who are as embraced by the goddess as you. One day, I know in my heart you will take my place and lead Fódlan to peace and order eternal.”

 _She worries me,_ Sothis’s words broke his mind before his own. _Excuse yourself at once. We must speak of this in private._

Little choice but to comply. “Thank you for everything, Rhea. But I must depart. I've dinner with Black Eagles to attend.”

That sadness stole upon her lips once more. “I understand. Be the teacher you were meant to be.”

He excused himself and was three steps away before turning back. “Would you care to join us?”

The invitation caught her more off-guard than his earlier ploy. “Kind indeed. But my position must be kept aloof from the affairs of others. But my well wishes go with you.”

Sothis’s words struck halfway down the stairs. _The freedom with which she uses the goddess’s name vexes me so._

“Because…?”

_This is most frustrating._

“I could…”

_Not a word! Must I repeat myself like a morning rooster? Honestly, your haste to reveal my circumstances is boorish and dull._

“It is for both our sakes.”

 _And it is for both our sakes I ask for silence._ _Whatever shall we do if I am your goddess? How will such news travel through your ranks?_

Disaster. Lies. Horror? _Death_. “Your point is made.”

A frustrated groan tore through his skull. _You act as if I am so unreasonable, yet you are the one speaking to yourself._

“Perhaps I should stop.”

_That jest would not amuse a child._

“Well, you aren’t laughing.”

There was a quick snort. _You heard nothing._

“Just talking to myself.”

Edelgard and Dorothea awaited him in the dining hall, the two girls already engaged in some manner of idle talk while he was indisposed. “Professor, over here!” Dorothea was quick to wave and he was quick to join them. Three bowls of peach sorbet just slightly melting before them.

He offered an apology for his tardiness. “It’s OK, Professor,” said Edelgard. “Between your various duties it’s perfectly understandable.” Her position would be much the same.

“Though if you want to make it up you could stay a bit longer after we finish eating.”

“We’ll see.” There was some sort of issue at the fishing pond but his bait stores were running too low to contribute and Franz refused to give away any more free bait. 

The smile Dorothea gave him almost seemed like she took it as an unbreachable fact. Soon after, she and Edelggard were chatting away about operas and books and stories. Things he had rare interest in behind making a few nonspecific acknowledgements when they brought him in. This resulted in his meal getting consumed first of all.

“You have to come see me at the opera house, Edie,” Dorothea eventually said. “I’ll make sure you have a box office seat.” She turned to him. “And you two, Professor. It will be delightful.”

“And Manuela?”

“Of course, the more the merrier!” Dorthea flashed a smile that seemed too wide. “But… did Manuela tell you we knew each other?”

“Oh?” That piqued Edelgard’s interest.

“Yes, when we were in Enbarr she took me on tour. Even to your opera house.”

“That’s Manuela for you…” Some of Dorothea’s cheer faded away.

“I wasn’t aware you’ve been to Enbarr before, Professor,” said Edelgard. “How was it?”

“Bloody.” So many corpses.

“That’s…”

“Were you jumped in an alley or something,” Dorothea cut in. “I know the back streets can be dangerous.”

Edelgard had taken a deep frown as he answered. “I was helping with relief for the injured. The prison camps were overflowing with the dying.” And the palace...

“After the war,” Edelgard dryly noted. “You’d have been younger than we are now, correct?” He nodded. “Then after all that, the survivors were unleashed on Fódlan without a care.” She loosed a bitter sigh. “How many people were terrorized after that act of generosity…?”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t have?”

“No, of course not. They were surrendered soldiers in need of care. Ignoring them or executing them would have been barbaric. I only wish that the Imperial court had done more to prevent the chaos that followed.” She dipped her head towards her meal. “My apologies. This isn't a conversation fit for a meal.”

Dorothea waited a few seconds before resuming talk about the opera and her invites but that edge of earnestness in her voice had faded to a forced enthusiasm. Byleth and Edelgard kept the pretense up but it was clear any attempts at light conversation had been crushed under the heavy.

**Harpstring Moon 12, Imperial Year 1180**

The first official set of classes. Even if he’d been unofficially teaching for weeks now. 

Before the assembled Black Eagles Byleth went over the prepared lessons on the broad subject of materials that would be necessary for commanding. He gave additional lessons to Edelgard, Bernadetta and Petra to help with their combat interests while making sure everyone had their own personal goals to strive for. Ensuring they had additional material to reference and study. For now he’d reinforce their strengths, but eventually he’d broaden their horizons to some of the hidden talents he’d gleamed and eventually understand the weaknesses he’d identified.

They also needed to fulfill their weekly group task. (He finally realized why Cassandra was pulling weeds all those years ago.) He had to coordinate with Hanneman and Manuela and divide the primary tasks between the three houses. They graciously allowed him first pick again, so, for the moment, he decided on weekly stable duty for Ferdinand and Bernadetta. That potentiality he’d seen in her would need to be nurtured and, if she ever fell behind in her duties, Ferdinand’s enthusiasm for the activity would compensate well.

**Harpstring Moon 18, Imperial Year 1180**

The 18th was the day set aside for on-field leadership exercises.

It was also Raphael’s birthday, but Byleth would be too busy for tea, so he settled for sending the boy some flowers instead.

The command test was set on the fields outside Garreg Mach, the same ones where the mock battle was held. The ancient structure of stone, the small forests and surrounding cliffs.

He coordinated with Aran, the leader of the knight detachment sent out to assist them, and ensured the ruleset was understood by both forces. Making sure Alois and the Blade knew to go easy on the less experienced comrades. They were the best equipped soldiers on the field, completely surpassing the padded armors of the Eagles and simple breastplates of Aran’s force.

  
  


The action was quick and effective enough in showing off who was qualified most to lead.

Edelgard proved herself competent and confident. Her orders were clear, troops motivated and moved on command, easily going toe-for-toe with her opponents. Hubert showed a clear command aptitude as well. While his troops seemed to lack for morale, he had a keen eye for arranging his attacks to break open the weak spots in his opponents’ formation. Dorothea’s troops were fiercely motivated by her, but lacked overall formation coherency. Ferdinand kept his soldiers in tight formation but was unwilling to be flexible when it was necessary to exploit openings in his opponents’ lines. 

Caspar proved to be utterly inept. His loud shouts and thoughtless attacks led his men to be confused, unsure if they should even follow him or not. That was lethal for a commander. It needed to be corrected. Even Bernadetta proved better. Her orders amounted to “get them!” but at least didn’t cause her command to collapse apart in confusion. 

Linhardt seemed uninterested in actually making attacks but he made sure his orders were quick and simple to follow, so he did well. Petra kept her orders very simple and led in front, compensating the language barrier with action and hand signs. It wasn’t perfect but it worked.

That was all the success garnered with the mercenaries and soldiers troops assigned to them. The Broken Blade on the other hand, proved a problem. They were a mixed force of weapons - axs, swords and lances. Even a few brawlers in the mix. It made it difficult to coordinate standardized orders owing to weapon variety and more than that, they were veterans and too used to the leaders they had. Getting commands from students who’d never fought a real battle wasn’t something they accepted easily because they outright knew better. When commanded back, they pressed forward. When told to attack, they held behind. Doing what would work if the orders were given.

It was dangerous enough Byleth confronted Alois about it directly. “Sorry, about that Byleth. We’re too used to working together.”

“You never had any problems when new recruits joined.”

“That’s true, but they were never higher than you or the captain.”

If he assigned the Broken Blade to himself the students wouldn’t get proper experience leading such a versatile group. “I am assigning you to someone else.”

“Best the princess or her servant then. Less grumbling when they’re giving the orders.”

“Their orders are my orders.”

“Of course they are.” Alois nodded along. “We’ll comply. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Just focus on defending and supporting. I’ll talk it over with the others later.”

“Thanks for that. It’s gonna be plenty weird without having the captain around.”

A few more attempts were made - and after every screw-up by the Blade - Byleth brought them back in line. By the time the dinner bells were ringing in the distance the Blade were at least keeping a coherent formation around Edelgard. It was the best they could count on until she could prove herself to men who’d fought and died to protect her country and her title.

**Harpstring Moon 20, Imperial Year 1180**

“Hoorah! Yah!” Raphael’s fists punched the head of the straw dummy clean off! Another win for muscles! But still, “Whoops.” He’d gotten yelled at plenty for doing that. Even his before class training knocked off another dummy’s head. Instructor Jeritza was gonna be mad about this when he came back.

“Keep yourself under control,” Felix said to him. “Flail around like that on the battlefield and you’ll be easy pickings.”

Raphael picked up the frayed head of the dummy and tightened it back on. “Nah, anyone who looks at these muscles is gonna run the other way.” He looked back at the dummy being good enough.

“What a ridiculous statement.” Felix shook his head. “No warrior on the battlefield that’s gone up against bandits, knights and beasts is gonna be scared off simply by your size. Any student here wouldn’t.”

“I dunno, Bernedetta really likes to run from everything.”

“She’s also never going to set foot on a real battlefield.”

“But neither will any of us. Not like you and I are ever gonna come to blows.”

“So certain about that are you? You clearly haven’t spent enough time with the boar.”

“Well I’d certainly get the chefs to grill up any boar I do spend time with.”

“That’s not—” Felix shook his head again. Man, that guy must really have a lot of bad thoughts. “I was talking about Dimitri.”

“Huh? You call all your friends boars then?”

“He is no longer my friend.”

“Why not?”

“That isn’t any of your business.”

“Probably not but I know if I ever hurt my buddy Ignatz I’d want to clear it up real quick.”

“Ugh, you’re almost as bad as he is.” Felix walked off, looking real disgusted about something. 

“Must be hungry. Maybe if I get him some boar meat he’ll cheer up.”

* * *

Big training earned itself a big meal and Raphael indulged in a few bowls of stew, some hearty breads and steaks of bear, horse and cow. Getting to be a knight was worth it for all the tasty food alone.

“Oh my, Raphael,” said Mercedes, “be sure not to choke.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Mercedes. I’m even better at eating than I am at training.”

“Be that as it may, we all fail at what we’re best at sometimes.”

Raphael put down his bowl. “Hmmm, Yeah, that sounds smart and stuff. Even my muscles weren’t always this big. Just means I’ve got to train myself to eat better then.” He made sure to chew his next bite all good and proper like a real knight would. But there was so much delicious food waiting...

“Do you really need that much food?”

“Well, if I want to be the strongest knight there is I need enough food to power all these muscles.”

“I see.” 

But she looked really concerned. “Are you hungry? Pull up a seat. I'll have the chef bring you something.”

“Oh, no thank you, I think watching you fills me up plenty.” Well that just didn’t make any sense. Watching other people eat always made him hungry. 

“Well if you ever feel like it I’ll be here in the morning, lunch, diner and before and after every training session.”

“That’s… well, OK. Maybe.”

But instead of leaving she just stood there. “Was there something else?”

“Oh! Yes! Thank you for reminding me. The professor was looking for you. It seemed he wanted to invite you to tea and biscuits.”

More food? Great! “Thanks Mercedes. I’ll go meet the professor right after I’m done.”

“All right, he’ll be in the gazebo right outside. Make sure you don’t hurt yourself eating.”

“Thanks Mercedes. I won’t. Don’t hurt yourself doing whatever you’re gonna do.”

* * *

His stomach was pretty close to full when he sat down across the professor. But the waft of some meaty sweets hit his nose. “Whew, tea, Professor? Thanks, but why?”

“I wasn’t able on your birthday.”

“Wow, really? Thanks for caring.” He gave him a big raw smile. “I had a good time with Ignatz and the Deer though. You should have joined, I doubt Claude would have said no.”

“We were on assignment that day.”

“Ahhh.” Raphael nodded. Knights couldn’t defy orders. “Hey, Professor, you’re a Knight of Seiros, right?”

“No, actually.”

“Whoa, really? But everyone was saying you were one.”

“I presume everyone assumes because of Jeralt.”

Raphael nodded along. “Sounds like noble stuff.”

“I’m not.”

“Still sounds like it. But hey, you’ve still lived around knights all the time. Any tips you could give me? I need to be a knight so I can support my little sis.”

The professor looked deep in thought so Raphael took some bites out of the treats and drank some tea. When the two hit together they exploded in flavor in his mouth. “Wow, Professor! This tea is really good!”

“Picking out a blend that complimented the sweeter meats was tricky. It seems the ginger tea worked.”

“It did!” Raphael slurped up his cup and finished off a plate. He’d need to remember this combo later.

“To become a proper knight, you have to understand yourself.”

“I understand myself plenty. I don’t think I’m a knight.”

“What are your strengths?” Raphael flexed. “Your weaknesses?”

And dropped back. “I’m not much one for book learning or magic stuff. I can tell you that.”

“You’ll have to overcome those if you want to be a proper knight. Learning etiquette, knightly codes and manners.”

Raphael grunted at all the work he’d have to do. “I know, I know. But that stuff isn’t where I’m good at. I figure, if I’m as strong as a hundred men then I won’t need that kind of stuff.”

“And if you need to be in two places at once?”

“I-hrm.” All his muscle made him run real slow, he knew that. “Well you got me there, Professor.”

“Find a way to compensate for your weaknesses and you’ll be walking the path of knighthood.”

Lystihea was real good with books and magic but she was always going around being busy. It was almost as adorable as when Maya did it but he couldn’t put more on her plate. Claude was all booksmart and stuff but didn’t seem to know much about magic, same with Ignatz. Lorenz kinda fit the deal. Maybe someone from—”Ah, I wonder if Mercedes would help me. Is she any good with books, Professor?” He knew she was good with magic.

“She’s familiar with the scriptures.”

“Is that why you sent her to get me?”

The professor sipped his tea.

**Harpstring Moon 21, Imperial Year 1180**

Saint Macuil Day. One of the Four Saints. Master tactician and spellweaver. His Crest further reinforced that magical power though it’d long gone rare in the Empire. There would be a recital in the cathedral in honor of the saint. The “March of Saint Macuil.” He knew the hymn. Knew it from all the times his father took him despite disinterest on his face.

That disinterest was shared with some students - but not all. Though most of the Black Eagles excused themselves after class, Linhardt, Ferdinand, Dorothea and Amelia accompanied him north. It was not required they attend the recital, even if it was encouraged.

Mercedes, Annette, Lorenz and Lysithea were other familiar faces in attendance from the student body. With Manuela putting in an appearance along with a number of other knights and pilgrims. And whatever Flayn qualified as. )Perhaps the same as him before he took the position.)

The choir master called up a round of volunteers for another choir and Flayn quickly volunteered herself. With her eyes of green she looked at him, pleading for more and he relented and joined her. Bringing along Linhardt as he did.

The disharmony was clear to his ears. Flynn was too eager, Linhardt too slow and himself too on key with the verses. But despite it all Flayn kept her good cheer all night long and thanked the two of them with a meal.

He… had... had worse.

Once.

It was legitimately impressive in its own way.

**Harpstring Moon 27, Imperial Year 1180**

A light rapport at her door brought Mercedes awake and she quickly hopped up to see who it was. “Hello Annie.” She gave her shorter best friend a smile.

“Hi, Merice.” Annie was holding up a sheet.

“Oh dear, I did it again, didn’t I?” She’d been too excited - she was in nothing but her nightgown. Annie was kind enough to not rub it in as Mercedes dressed herself up proper. “All better.”

“Make sure you don’t forget the dinner reservations. I was only able to get five seats, so that’s three beyond us. Sorry I couldn’t do better after what you did.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Annie. I know you did your best.” But three seats would make it impossible to invite all their friends from the Blue Lions. It would be perfect if Mother, Emile and… say Constance were here but her family and friends were too long gone. “I’ll see whom I can find and meet you there.”

“Great!”

Classes for the day came and went. The invite list was more important for today. But even as the hour drew near she couldn’t narrow it down. There were just too many people she’d like to know more about.

For some reason or another she found herself near the training grounds, overhearing two boys talking about something.

“You’re too loud.”

“But if I’m not loud I can’t get fired up! And if I’m not fired up I can’t fight!”

It sounded like Jertiza and Caspar were in some sort of argument! It wouldn’t do to eavesdrop, but if she showed herself she’d just make things awkward.

“It’s obnoxious. It will get you killed.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not carrying your corpse.”

“H-hold on!” But Jeritiza walked right by her and out of the training grounds without another word.. “Yeesh, what’s his problem?”

“Hello, Caspar,” Mercedes stepped out.

“Oh, hey Mercedes, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry about eavesdropping, but what was that all about?”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted to get a bit of training in with Jeritza but he kept saying ‘no’ until I started shouting then all that happened.”

“I see. Is there anyone else you could train with?”

“Well, I guess my professor, but I don’t want to rely on him too much if I want to surpass him.”

“I see. I see. Well, I can’t help you fight but I can heal you if you get hurt during training.”

“I doubt I will, but thanks.” 

He was looking so sad after all that. But maybe she had something that could cheer him right up! “If you’re not busy later, I’m having a little get together with other friends in the dining hall.”

“I’m always up for a meal.” Caspard was practically beaming at the thought. “But you sure? Gotta be plenty of others you’re closer to.”

“Now what does that have to do with anything? If we’re not close, all I have to do is fix that.”

“Well, if you’re certain…” She confirmed with a nod. “Then I’ll be there at whatever time.”

“How wonderful. Now I’ve got to go fill the other seats.”

“Need any help?”

“No. But thank you for the thought.” With a quick heel Mercedes chased after Instructor Jertiza and just barely caught him near the fishing bond.

She called out to him and with his lethargic tone asked, “What is it?”

“Would you like to share a meal sometime, Instructor?” 

There was a sway of unsteadiness she’d never seen when he was training on the grounds. “I am not interested.”

“Are you sure? I’m making plenty of sweets.” He just sort of looked like a boy who liked sweets, even with that mask covering the upper half of his face.

“Are you cooking on your birthday…?”

“Oh my, how did you know it’s my birthday?” Could it be she had a secret admirer?

“...it was part of your enrollment papers.”

“Oh, of course. Silly me. But are you interested?”

“...do you… no.”

“Know what?”

“No, I decline.”

“That’s a shame, I was making the treats my mother and I used to make for my little brother.” Maybe Caspar would enjoy them if Annie didn’t.

“...fine.” “Hm?” “I will not… converse… but I will... consume.”

That was probably the best she was gonna get. “We’ll see about that. Thank you.”

Mercedes went over to the dining hall to help Annie set up but just as quickly Professor Byleth walked up. She asked why he was here.

“I prepared tea for your birthday,” he answered. 

“How lovely, but I’ll be too busy here to take a sip.”

Annie spoke up immediately that she could handle it alone, but the professor insisted on helping and they got it done in no time at all. “Do you want to join us after, Professor? We have an open seat.” He paused to consider before answering with a “yes.” “How wonderful!” she said before he led her off to tea.

The gazebo was lovely, he’d packed it with roses, lilies and some violets while keeping the pattern consistent with the little teapot he had. Nice and steamy even after they worked. The tea was served and she took in the pleasing floral scent. “This is lovely, Professor.” The taste wasn’t quite her favorite but the decor made it simply wonderful. She eyed the jelly rolls that accompanied it. She couldn’t ruin herself for dinner but maybe just a nibble. “Where did you get these sweets, Professor? They’re delicious.” The strawberry popped in her mouth that she got maybe a bit greedy and took a second one.

“I made them myself.”

“Oh my! You’re quite the baker. Annie and I could learn something from you.”

“I meant to ask you about that after Annette’s birthday. But my own schedule was fairly occupied.”

“Don’t let us ruin the important classes, Professor.”

“I should be capable.” 

Mercedes nodded. “I’d like that but…” She looked around what he’d done just for her birthday. What he must have done for Annie’s. “You work yourself just as hard as Annie does. Maybe even harder. Dimitri was talking about how he fought you right after the mock battle and you were even training then.”

“So was Dimitri. I hadn’t been injured, so there was no need to skip the next day.”

“Rest is important too, Professor, don’t forget that.” She giggled. “Oh my, here I am lecturing you over tea. Not very studenty of me.”

“Wisdom is wisdom no matter the station.”

“You’re very accepting, Professor. Perhaps it’s your upbringing in the church that led you to listen so intently to others?”

His eyes shifted in a manner that felt like he disagreed even as his face stayed still. “Perhaps.”

Maybe she could help him along a bit? And help others too. “Oh, I have a wonderful idea. The cathedral has this little ask box where people seek advice on their woes anonymously. Perhaps you could take a look later on? I’m sure you can help out plenty more people than just us students.”

But it hit her right after. “I just told you to not work too hard then told you to work harder, oh dear. Whatever you do, make sure to get plenty of rest. We couldn’t do with having a sleepy professor.” She giggled again.

Their chat continued for a bit longer, as the tea grew cold and Mercedes suddenly remembered she had other business to attend to. Byleth gifted her some lavender flowers to a “They’re lovely!” and she headed off to store them before returning to the dining hall.

Caspar was there being loud and getting along well with Annie. Byleth stoically took his seat and added his own points a few times. Jertiza did everything he could to ignore them and focus on the food. While everyone did the same. Even as she tried to get him to contribute he just wouldn’t. Such a shame.

As the evening carried on she noticed something strange was going on with Instructor Jertiza. Every time she got a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, he was either staring at her or the professor. Every time she confronted him head on he focused back on his meal. Maybe he was just shy under that mask? Maybe that was why he wore it at all!

The excitement died down with the sun and everyone exchanged thanks and went their separate ways. Mercedes taking herself up a flight of stairs and getting some important information before heading to bed with a mind full of ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that's basically first draft. Needs some serious editing which I'll go throughout the week but it's here. Just wanted to get it out so I can say things are stabilizing somewhat.
> 
> There's no ETA on when an actual Chapter 6 will come out. If all the stars align it'd be two months minimum. I need to actually finish everything that was in my backlog THEN add on four new chapters to compensate for what I had to post through this nonsense.
> 
> Anyway, this is sort of the situation and breakdown going forth. A Garreg Mach chapter into a battle chapter. Along with dragging in plenty of new events across house and new support ideas.


	6. Bleeding the Red Canyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and the Black Eagles get their first proper assignment.

**Harpstring Moon 28, Imperial Year 1180**

Something was wrong.

Shamir should have taken less than a week to corner some bandits. They weren’t skilled enough to evade him, much less her. Even the possibility that there were more experienced members in their ranks wouldn’t explain it. Taking nearly a full moon was unprecedented.

He’d brought his concerns up with Rhea but she just assured him that Shamir had it under control. Advised him to focus on the students instead.

So he did.

The assignment had no set due date, he’d planned to collect it after they received word of Shamir’s success, but as things were he announced it and they obliged. They delivered their reports as class began and he set them on another small assignment as he reviewed the thirty reports of conflicting strategies, tactics and a complete lack of coordination. Failing a lesson in secret. Success and flaw found in unequal measure. Too much of the latter. Too much for a situation where lives were currency.

As class neared its end there was a small division of how he should continue. Announcing the advantages and flaws of each plan in public could damage the egos and confidence of his charges. But continuing in private would also prevent any sort of adjustment that could come from learning the ideas of others.

“Is there something on your mind, my teacher?” Edelgard’s voice sprang him from his thoughts. 

Twice now. He was losing his edge. “Many things.”

“Perhaps it’s unseemingly for a student to ask this of a teacher, but I am here to listen if something deeply concerns you.”

“Quite bold of you, Edie,” Dorothea said with a smirk. “I’m here for you too, Professor. Even if I’d prefer to chat over tea, like you’ve already done with Ferdie.”

“Thank you, Edelgard, Dorothea.” It gave him exactly the answer he needed. “We’re going to be discussing the battle plans for the rest of class. Everyone’s plans.” The mark of criticism needed to apply as evenly as possible while it still could.

“Then I volunteer my strategy to be reviewed first,” said Edelgard. Confidence in her voice and eyes.

“That confident, are you?”

“Yes. But if there are flaws in my plan they must be rectified first. I will not be an emperor who hides behind others or dismisses criticisms blindly. All must be free to share their concerns.”

“Well said, Lady Edelgard.”

“As the future Prime Minister I should be the best one to guide you, but I cannot deny that all here have valid opinions to raise.”

“Criticising the nobility in public? How fun.”

“Please don’t be in a rush to bring up my report, I simply wish to nap this moment away.”

“Hey, can I go after Edelgard? Mine’s real quick it’ll be fine!”

“I will accept going last, if others wish it.”

They continued to stray from the same behaviors of the previous students. Where every pointed mistake or defeat embittered them with scorn. Or perhaps it was a ruse. “Prepare yourself.” Byleth announced Edelgard’s plan: Leave an exit for the bandits to flee through. When the class and their soldiers advanced, the bandits would retreat through their open pass… and be devastated by ambush troops. They’d surrender in good order or be annihilated as an effective force. Simple in its nature but without any great complexities to needlessly burden it. “It is a good plan,” he said. “Simple to execute. But it also relies on the enemy moving as planned.”

Hubert said, “Then we must simply force them to move as we desire.”

“Correct. However if the enemy does not retreat then it shall simply be an upfront attack with all the risks that entails.” He looked at Caspar. “Exactly the same plan as someone else here.”

“Hey,” said student said, “no way we’re gonna lose to a bunch of bandits. Especially not with the Knights of Seiros behind us.”

“And those who manage to escape in the many passes of the Red Canyon?”

“They won’t be bothering anyone after the thrashing we give them.”

“I agree with some alterations,” Ferdinand interjected. “Cover the escape routes. and take them swiftly in a frontal assault. We will shatter their bandit-hearted resolve and leave them without any desire to continue a life of roguery should any escape our watch.”

“These are the same bandits we defeated last month.”

The sudden realization sank Caspar’s head. “Ah, right, yeah…”

“Hmmm, more committed to their roguish ways than I would think,” said Ferdinand.

“For that matter...” Byleth looked at Linhardt. “Simply letting them go is not an option either.”

“I didn’t say let them go per say,” the sleepy boy replied, “just that letting them go would be the easiest way to deal with them.”

“And if they should choose to seek revenge?”

“Where? Here? How? I don’t think even the Imperial army could take Garreg Mach, let alone a few bandits. They’ll probably just starve along the way.”

“That’s rather callous of you, Lin,” said Dorothea. “They could easily go after… where was it? Remire Village? again.”

“No more callous than endangering our lives trying to fight them. Everyone here’s too quick to fight. Even if that is what we’re supposed to be here for.”

“I do agree it’s a bit… much to be doing this ourselves. Isn’t it too dangerous for us to fight hardened killers like this?”

“All soldiers must start somewhere.”

Dorothea didn’t quite sigh but it seemed close. “If only there was some way to stop this senseless killing before it starts.”

“And your plan to negotiate?” said Byleth.

“There’s no chance they could outfight the knights. They’d just wind up dead if they tried. This way we can all come back in one piece.”

“Idealistic.” And impossible.

“I haven’t quite been in their boots, but I know what it’s like to be driven to desperation to survive.”

A story for later. Long after the person with the exact opposite sensibilities. “Hubert, your plan is to siege the enemy, wear at their morale and force them to either retreat into the ambush troops, like Edelgard suggested, or to incite them to attack our front lines.”

“As long as we only strike at their weakest points we will minimize the danger to ourselves and maximize damage to the enemy,” said Hubert.

“Or make them more desperate - drive them into a frenzy.”

“If they are so easy to anger then they’ll fall victim to cleverly disguised traps.”

“And if their supplies should outlast our own?”

“Hardly a possibility, but in consideration we’d simply need to adopt the simpler task of routing them outright before we reach critical lows.”

“Everyone else’s plans included the possibility of surrender and accepting it. Why didn’t yours?” Byleth asked.

“Is that not what the church desires? The complete extermination of those who oppose them?”

Correct. “Bernadetta, your plan of ignoring them isn’t a plan at all.”

“But it’s the only one that doesn’t involve any danger!” she said.

“When we conduct lessons on avoiding danger you’ll be an expert. but for now focus on the assignment at hand.”

“R-right…” She did not seem as skittish as before.

“Petra yours was to leave every pass open and ambush them instead.”

“It is my thinking that if the prey knows that it is cornered it will be sus-pi-cious of escape.”

He nodded. “Securing all exits, save one, in an obvious fashion would raise concerns with a keen strategist.” He looked across his classroom. “There is a common lesson in my responses, what is it?”

“Knowing your enemy,” Edelgard replied immediately.

“Correct. All of your plans suffer from a lack of knowledge on your upcoming opponents.” But Byleth honed in on a boy with dark blue hair in the back. “Save one. Mars, you are the only one who suggested scouting the opposition. Dorothea’s negotiations would be second in assessing your enemy. But both of your plans also accounted for taking the enemy alive.” He sent a look over nearly every single member of the class. “Too many of your plans, in fact.”

Ripples of unease overtook the calm faces of his students.

“They have desecrated the sacred ground of the Holy Church of Seiros. There will be no survivors.”

**Harpstring Moon 30, Imperial Year 1180**

A month and a half was a new record.

His invitations to a second pre-battle meal were rejected by all the Black Eagles save one. Even the final student would shy away before long. Then he could go back to the Broken Blade.

For the moment, though, Hubert and he cut the greens, prepared the sauces and the spices for their hero salad.

“You handle the knife quite deftly,” said Hubert as he prepared the spices. “And the one at your side even more deftly, I presume.”

“Yes.” Bylth cut the ripe angelica fruits into thin slices and tiny cubes. “Your choice?”

“The slices, if you would. And squeeze them free of juices. I prefer my meals… orderly.”

Byleth nodded and began juicing out the fruits into a jar.

“Not a movement wasted even in the kitchen. Lady Edelgard has picked a fascinating one this time.”

Byleth carefully arranged the slices between cuts of lettuce and cheese. “Because I cook well?”

“Among other things. The way you toyed with the prince of Faerghus was most illuminating.”

“It was just a mock battle.” Byleth threw his chunks on his salad and lightly dressed it with spices and slathered it in sauce. “There was hardly a need to engage him in earnest.”

“Oh, certainly, but that did not mean Her Highness took her opponent as lightly as you did.”

“I am more experienced.” The two of them took their bowls to a pair of empty seats.

“I have seen plenty of experienced soldiers fight their lessers.” Where was he going with this? “Yet the condescending manner by which you bested the prince of Faerghus was unlike anything I had ever seen. You did not give him a shred of dignity before you tore him apart.” What was he talking about? “If that attitude should ever endanger Lady Edelgard’s life, if your leadership proves not up to the task, I will be silent.”

“So, you took my lesson seriously then.”

Hubert’s chuckle was answer enough.

  
  


**Harpstring Moon 31, Imperial Year 1180**

It was the last day of the month when they finally received orders to move out. 

Whatever feelings had taken them after the monthly assignment had been overtaken by the news of their first real battle. Caspar, Petra and Ferdinand were excited. Edelgard and Hubert retained a tone of acceptance and indifference. Bernadetta, Linhardt and Dorothea were ill at ease regarding the whole situation.

He’d prepared them to his best. It was up to them to uphold their training.

With the morning sun at their backs they moved out.

* * *

With the midday sun hanging overhead they arrived.

For so short of distance so many were patched with sweat and deep breaths. They were high in the Oghma Mountains now. High enough that mist coalesced in the deep valleys below. Carts could not be taken on the steep trails and broken roads they walked. Everyone came in their armor, carried their weapons, packs ladened with supplies.

The bandits waiting at the top of the bridge could have launched an offensive and accomplished something.

Of course, they couldn’t.

Shamir and her team had long shown them the folly of trying to attack. The bridge leading up marked with corpses fresh and not. It didn’t dissuade the clever ones from making another attempt when they saw the reinforcements arrive. But too many clever ones felt the sting of Shamir’s arrows. Her and her unit picked off each and every target before they reached halfway down the slant. 

The bridge was left littered with the dead - and only the dead. No survivors from her shots and made sure her battalion did the same. A few unlucky ones fell off the sides, screaming for a full minute before the release found them.

While the majority of the Eagles, Blade and rest rested for their battle to come, Byleth, Alois and the rest of the commanders engaged with Shamir. She was as confident as ever, with her deep violet eyes keeping tabs on everything in sight, gauging distance for shots with a bow. A silver one in her hand, held by black leather gloves and fueled by a steel-case quiver on her hip. Quiver attached to a belt and black pants, with boots below and above a bustier with golden lace above and a small green jacket covering her. The only armor a single pauldron of steel on her left arm. But rarely did she need it. She was a sniper, and prepared for it in all things. Even her dark blue hair was cut short and swept aside to not block her vision.

“We’ve got them pinned in some old ruins to the north,” Shamir reported. “We’ve been picking them off for the last few days and getting what we can from the survivors. Sounds like there’s around a hundred left for you to deal with.”

Sizable, but still less than the forces that would see their end.

“There’re a few passes to the west that they could escape through, so I’ve set up a few units to ambush anyone smart enough to run. There’s also another set of ruins further north of where their boss is holding up, but we couldn’t find a way to reach it, so I doubt they know either. Course, you never know how things will go.” 

It was the best they would get. “This shouldn’t prove too difficult.”

“Care to join us, Shamir?” Alois asked.

She gave Byleth a quick look over. “I think the professor here can handle it himself. Besides I could use a sit after chasing them all over the blasted place. I’ll make sure nothing gets by your lines.” She and her unit walked off without another word. 

“That’s Shamir for you,” Alois laughed. “She doesn’t mince words. Even as she minces enemies, eh?” No one gave him a laugh. “Gotta work on my material. All right, Byleth, what’s the plan?”

Even the most intelligence was less than he’d like. “We’ll break their front lines and adjust our tactics with new information.” It was their best option without a more accurate survey of the land or their enemies’ locations.

The students took the answer with uncertainty while all the experienced soldiers and mercenaries close enough nodded with well-understood acceptance.

“Trust in what I’ve taught, what you’ve learned — the men and women besides you, and you’ll get through this alive.”

It seemed to mollify a few tense faces, but nothing could stop Bernadetta from shaking. It was all he would do. Death was their teacher now.

He assigned the mercenary units to Caspar and Ferdinand. Hubert may have been a better commander but he was not to be on the front lines. The Broken Blade and Alois he placed with Edelgard. The rest of the students he divided up between the command candidates. Ready for their first battle. With their orders and divisions on mind they returned to their new commands to give their own briefings. Assuage their own fears, or in Bernadetta’s case, make them worse.

_ So, we are taking the children into battle, are we? _ Sothis’s voice intruded in his mind.  _ I am not certain I will be able to sleep soundly after witnessing a thing such as that. _

If her vision was as vast as the goddess’s should be, then children fighting would not even be the worst of Fódlan. If she could peer into his own mind she would see worse.

_ I shall allow you to turn back the hands of time. _ Full of confidence despite the implausibility of her words.  _ But know this power is not infinite. _

By instinct never used he grasped it and the world itself stilled. The birds in the air remained aloft even as their wings ceased to beat. The mists in the valleys churned no more. No student blinked, breathed. The world was his and his alone. Still as his face.

With a concentrated thought he could wind it back. Would wind it back. See Shamir standing besides, see the faces without exertion or the gates of Garreg Mach. 

The power to decide war and fate alone.

He could feel the flicker of that power swell within. Three — he knew without being told — he could remake history three times.

It would soon be two.

Byleth ordered everyone to hold positions and over objections advanced alone. He rushed ahead like a mindless fool, drew all enemies to him and ran in spite of wounds he received. Cutting through his foes like the Ashen Demon he was and leaving the trail of dissolution and destruction in his wake. Sword and spell bringing devastation in brutal measure. Stealing life from foe to sustain his own; Crest of Flames driving him onwards. Against the bandit’s boss, ax swung alongside a guttural cry of outrage and fear but it was nothing before Byleth’s blade. The self-called king savagely removed of where a crown would go.

None remained. The Eagles who followed looked upon in astonished horror. The Broken Blade in grim, familiar understanding.

The gore-stained Byleth met them impassively as blood dripped off.

Edelgard opened her mouth—

—and time resetting shut it. Disturbance replaced by innocence.

Sword in sheath and coat white as they left. 

He gave his scouting report. Blood spilt to claim it refunded.

The closest bandits were concentrated in three groups at the pinnacle of the first bridge. Two thirds of them were equipped for melee and the final third with old bows. The size of the stone bridge, large enough for even a Demonic Beast to advance with ease, would be difficult for the bandits to hold. The front lines of the Eagles would smash through, yet he cautioned them to remain wary of the arrows as they advanced.

Above them was a plateau, lain with ruined stonework and hard ground. A few hardy brushes of no consequence. To the northwest, in the remnants of a building, the thieves were handling some sort of loot (best they recover that). To the north, another ancient stone bridge-stair with its own protectors. But to the east of that was a small alcove where a band of archers remained hidden, ready for an ambush of their own. The spellcasters and Bernadetta would handle that.

To the west of the center plateau was a small bridge extended to the lower ground. Guarded by a small handful, but with narrower paths. Ferdinand and Linhardt would split into that direction to take care of it. Both groups would regroup to the far northwest where their final opponent awaited. The same bandit boss from Remire. Standing on a healing tile between still-standing columns.

The Black Eagles were as baffled as his insights as they should be. The regular battalions of the church too, seemed confused. But the Broken Blade were accustomed to it. They were all half-cocked smirks and smug expressions. 

“Have you been here before, Professor?” asked Edelgard.

“Yes.” Not a lie; not the truth.

He gave the order to advance and the troops did so. Edelgard with the Broken Blade and Alois; Caspar with the mercenary unit. She and the Blade smashed through their first opponents with ease, while Caspar’s group struggled, took hits aplenty and were forced to disengage. Byleth sent in Bernadetta to support. The arrows of her unit picked up a few more kills and let Ferdinand’s unit reinforce and finish them off. Some of the students set under Ferdinand and Bernadetta’s units had missed their marks or never struck, their weapons were clean. It would not last.

The enemy responded with missile fire of its own, but the gambesons, leathers and metals shook off the old arrows with minimal injury. The low quality wooden arrows and barely bendable bows had long lost combat effectiveness against any proper military force, even one as inexperienced as the students. The archers were cut down with a shred of difficulty. A few threw down their bows and surrendered for mercy that would not be forthcoming. But they were bound and sent back to Shamir regardless.

There were no spears dry after that.

“Advance to your new positions,” he gave the order. “Petra retake the looted goods.”

“I shall be taking back the goods!” she said and led her team northwest to the bandits protecting their ill-gotten gains. Ferdinand and Linhardt’s units followed nearby to take the western path while the rest advanced to the northern bridge.

More bandits armed with rusted and chipped swords came rushing up. Bombarded by spell and arrow aplenty as they did. When Edelgard and Caspar led into the fray, they finished with nary a cut among their numbers. The groups continued to advance forward and down the white stones of the bridge. As predicted, the archers in the eastern alcove launched their ambush. With one among their number shooting proper arrowheads. A few of his shots hit weak points in the armor but he could not forestall the advance alone.

Their forces descended to the lower segment of rocky ground as Hubert’s and Dorothea’s spells and Bernadetta’s arrows rained upon the bandit archers. Byleth sent Caspar to finish them off and the surviving archers made a sensible suicide rush that accomplished nothing. Byleth angled their forces and advanced west. Where Ferdinand and Linhardt had pushed up and were advancing on the leader already.

“You aren’t gonna be taking down Kostas the Iron King this time!” His voice boomed even from a distance.

Ferdinand accepted this challenge, racing to meet the bandit in pitched combat. The best of the thieves stormed out and swung their axes with wild abandon. Their ferocity shattered the resolve of the students. Bodies fell, the first losses the church had taken. White armor stained with crimson and black-garbed students feebly reckoned with their mortality. Ferdinand commanded them back for the survivors to shelter with Linhardt’s aid.

And the bandit let them. For he had hostages to take and prisoners to execute.

Had he not grabbed the living, standing his ground would have proven a fool’s mistake. He could have been easily torn apart by arrow and spell. Ferdinand quickly realized and marshaled his forces to return, desperate to fix his mistake.

But it was not a mistake that mortals could fix. Sunlight reflected off tears as crude knives cut throats and life left lips. A howl of anguish as Ferdinand skewered the bandit boss.

It did not stop students from dropping dead alongside their killers.

It had to be avoided. Byleth triggered the Divine Pulse (the name came as naturally as its use) to the moment he reached the bottom.  _ One left. Save it for disaster.  _ His words or her’s? Important either way.

His voice raised, “Ferdinand stop.” Cutting the air like a yell.

The man’s head twisted around. Expression unreadable from a distance. But he complied, kept his troops at a distance away from the bandit’s leader this time. 

The primary detachment wiped out the hidden archers as before. “Advance all remaining spell units and missile troops towards the primary target.” The relevant units moved up as the melee did to cover them. The boss shouted his spiel again but the merciless storm of magic and missile thinned out his protective detail.

“Now, all forces advance.”

Ferdinand, Caspar, Edelgard and he made their attack from all four directions. The man knew his fate, yet still did not surrender. Meaningless defiance to the end. The only defiance there was against the church.

A flicker of intelligence was prelude to an assault. With another cry he rallied what men remained for an attack on Edelgard. “Spoiled little noble! I’ll show you what real hardship is! So sit there and die!”

Edelgard remained firm, ax in hand. “So one who knows hardships has the right to kill? How pathetic.”

He swung his ax. The same swing Byleth bested both a minute ago and so recently. And she knew as well, dodging with room to spare. Her ax came high, and rained down with a mighty smash that the bandit could not match. The Crest of Seiros gave her the power to splinter straight through the shaft of the man’s ax and cleaved him deep.

Dead. Outraged even as a corpse.

The rest surrendered.

Quick and simple.

Reflex sprung and Byleth and the experienced soldiers cleaned their weapons. A few of the students: Edelgard, Ferdinand and Roy as well, but otherwise the rest seemed too distracted to concentrate.

They needed purpose. “Regroup and count the prisoners.” Knights leapt on command but the Eagles, save a few, sluggish to respond until a repeat. It took but a few minutes to gather their haul. Twenty-two had surrendered rather than spend their lives. Five more knocked unconscious from battle and picked back up. Fifteen injured amongst the knights, mercenaries and students. 

None dead. 

Even the injured were lessened and lessening thanks to Linhardt. In their minds it would be an excellent time to start together.

But Byleth’s thoughts drifted more regularly to their end together.

He gathered together the primary Eagles, along with Alois.

Edelgard spoke without prompting. “I won’t say I was unmoved by the loss of life.” For all her kills even in Remire she frowned at the situation. “But it was a necessary sacrifice.”

“I will clear away all the unworthy trash for you, Lady Edelgard,” said Hubert.

“Mere bandits could never have overwhelmed a noble such as I,” boasted Ferdinand. “You should have let me advance, Professor.” 

“Are all real battles this exciting?” Caspar was bouncing foot to foot, already eager for his next skirmish.

Linhardt was paler than usual. His eyes were unfocused and his steps shakey. “I… I killed them… the blood…” he splattered and choked but kept lunch within.

“Why did you make me do that?” Bernadetta’s courage had ran dry and she curled herself into a ball. “Ahhhh who cares if they're stealing?! Can we go home yet?”

“So, is sending students to kill part of the tenants of Seiros too?” Dorothea was scowling at the sights before her.

“Man and animal are no different. Calm one’s heart. Then strike.” Petra had steeled herself. Done so long ago.

Alois gave him a little nudge and whispered. “We’ll march the prisoners back and execute them on grounds. No need to rattle up the kids any further.” He was making a most glower face at it. So unlike Alois. 

But so like a knight of Seiros. “And give’em a ‘they did good speech,’ will ya? And remember to smile.”

No. “Good work everyone,” Byleth announced. “You kept in control and heeded my words when ordered.”

“I believe my attack would have trounced that villain, right then and there,” Ferdinand claimed against the fact. “There was no need to recall me and let Edelgard finish it.”

Byleth locked those orange eyes unto his. “If you’d faltered? Were forced to retreat?”

“Unlikely, but in such a case it would have done nothing to dissuade our ultimate victory.”

“Even should he take the injured left behind as hostages?”

The boy’s face paled in seconds. “I-I underestimated his cruelty.”

“There is only one ultimate role in warfare: survive.” He gave his students one more look. The earlier graduates of the lesson nodded along. “Remark on this success and consider what you could have done differently - better. What I could have done better.” He watched as his words took root in the faces of all his students. “Prepare to move out.” He cast one more glance over his wards. “And clean your weapons. All of you.”

His final orders sent everyone into a business set to them. Leaving him to observe his other concern.

Zanado, the Red Canyon. Where the goddess once walked the land. He walked to a ridgeline, casting gaze over the ruins stretching into the mists. Buildings tall and shattered in half. Buildings flat and large. Decay and great size the common thing between them all. 

There was the bakery that served those delightful cinnabuns. There was that sculptor’s adobe. She made so many cute statues. There was the square where the children learned to dance and play with music ringing all day.

What?

He blinked, hard. Nearly slapped his head.

Why was he remembering this peaceful place as so full of life? Whoever lived here had long since perished. Whatever had. Those doors which still had frames were so large as to fit every single living being marching through them shoulder-to-shoulder. The flat roofs with spots for roosts. Streets and bridges that an army could march down with ease… Could...

_ Why is it that you remember this place? _

Her words were a sudden surprise.

_ Surprised again, are you? You must be weak of heart. This place has drawn your attention deeply, it seems. _

“Down there…” He pointed at a tower torn in twain. “Was a courier.”

_ Yes, yes… but why? _

“Zanado… the land of the goddess.”

_ That is... That is so, I know it as you know. Am I..? No, then how did I come to be here? This is most vexing. _

“There are only two avenues left to explore.”

_ You will speak of me to none! _

That left one place: Abyss.

_ Come, we must hurry back. My heart beats so at this sight… but is that me? Or is it you? _

No. His did not.

Even if the power of the goddess did beat within.

* * *

The sun was falling as they returned to Garreg Mach. Shamir and her unit took the prisoners to their final fate. The hired hands returned to their quarters in the lower parts of the grounds and the students and Broken Blade charted their own courses for food, rest or hygiene.

Only, Alois, Edelgard and Hubert remained with him in the entrance hall. With its hanging banners of the church, thick red carpeting. Great statues to Emperor Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg and waterfalling fixtures below them.

“Profesor, a word in private?” She dismissed Hubert, and Alois took a hint to report to Rhea first.

Though Hubert merely concealed himself behind a nearby pillar. An impressive effort, though not flawless. The slight glint of shadow and torch gave him away.

“Professor I…” She fidgeted with her words. “I wish to apologize for my earlier attitude.”

“Regarding what?”

“Your… blunt announcement we would be taking no prisoners a few days ago was… something I expected, honestly. But even anticipating it… I was surprised. So everyone else certainly took it worse. Save for Hubert, I suppose.”

This was new. “The goddess does not offer redemption in this life.”

_ I would not agree with that. _

“Of course. One always hears these things. But witnessing the dogma in person is a different matter altogether. I’ll try and talk it over with the Eagles, try and calm things down.” Her lips carefully did not dip into a frown. “Those prisoners we took… will not see the sunrise, will they?”

“Certainly not a second.”

Her brow furrowed, her mouth opened… but she caught herself with worry and darting eyes. “I saw you observing the Red Canyon, Professor,” she bluntly changed the subject. “Did you notice anything peculiar about it?”

_ Plenty. _ “The ruins?”

She nodded. “Indeed. They matched no style of architecture ever used within the Empire, or all of Fódlan for that matter. Who do you think once lived there?”

“Zanado predates the Empire.” Yes, the goddess left because of Nemesis, and the Empire was founded not long after the event. Yet why was life absent? Did they leave with the goddess? Or… “A culture long since perished.” It was not just decay afflicting those ruins.

“I agree.” She smiled. ”It’s possible they weren’t even human.”

His eyes spared a glance upwards. At the Immaculate One resting on the banner of the church. The children of the goddess would live with the goddess. So, where were they, if the goddess was within?

* * *

Rhea praised their success, prayed for the souls of those who lost their lives. “Do you recall your lessons on the church’s history?”

“Zanado. The land beloved by the goddess.”

Rhea smiled. “Yes. Even a place as magnificent as that could only be but a temporary haven.”

The goddess could not be held to so small a piece of Fódlan. “When the goddess left, what became of the people living under her guidance?”

A deep sadness seemed to overtake her, head dipping, eyes falling. That gentle light extinguished with his words. “Long have they passed. From what causes the church’s doctrine says nothing.”

If Rhea did not know… if the book’s above did not… then the tomes below could be all that remained.

Save one place other: Sothis herself.

* * *

“Hey Captain,” Alois said as he entered his office, “need me for something?”

“How did Byleth do with command?”

“Wonderful! I always knew he was something special but seeing him in charge was just something else entirely. He read the entire battle like it was a children’s storybook. Put all the insights he had during the war to shame.”

Jeralt nodded. “I look forward to seeing him grow even more.” He was glad to see his son succeeding. But something still sat uneasy about the whole situation. Course, it was simple why. “Were there prisoners?”

Alois tried not to frown. But he was never any good at it. “Yes. Don’t worry, we kept the dirty work away from Byleth and the students. Like we always do.”

Like they always did. Like it was as natural as breathing. “Thank you, Alois. You’ve been a good friend.”

“Whoa, Captain Jeralt’s praising me. I better add this to my journal of rare occurrences.”

“Add on that you almost made a good joke there.”

That got his frown running away with a laugh. Yeah. Just as practiced as his lancework.

* * *

**Garland Moon 1, Imperial Year 1180**

Byleth woke - grabbed his sword and rushed to the door.

_ What are you doing? _

He wanted to call for a whisper, but none could hear Sothis but him.

Whatever was on the other side of the door moved on. They were not a drunk, none of the signs, none of the dragged footsteps and shambling mess of slurred words. It was not the clang of metal boots or stark uniform discipline of patrols. Nor would anyone march so close to the dormitory doors.

It was a sneak. A thief. Someone trying to hide their presence but scared off by him all the same.

He needed to be more cautious. If they tried anything on the students...

He wouldn’t let there be another Monica von Ochs.

Not again.

Not again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Garland Days

Garland Moon 1, Imperial Year 1180

“Professor, there is a new mission for you and your class this moon.”

Not even a full day since Zanado.

“We have received a request from Lord Lonato of the Kingdom to help quell a rebellion festering in the lands of another Kingdom lord.”

Christophe’s father. “A rebellion isn’t within the church’s jurisdiction.” They could pass judgement on related affairs and outlaws. Protect themselves when attacked. Not this.

“Normally this would be the case,” said Seteth. “But a messenger from the lord has informed us of intrigue behind the rebellion.”

“That is?”

“He is under the belief that Lord Gideon of the central plains is conspiring with the Western Church. Relations with the Western Church have been strained for years, and recently there’s been reports of substantial troop movements.”

That was more concerning. “Shouldn’t this be undertaken by the knights, then?”

“Yes, and that is why you and your class will be accompanying one.”

“You called, Lady Rhea?” Jeralt announced his entrance.

“Christophe Gaspard has specifically requested the aid of Jeralt and the Broken Blade owing to your past histories,” said Seteh. “Jeralt and a different detachment of knights shall handle most of this task, but should the need arise, your students will be sent in to assist.”

Rhea said, “Anyone who threatens the peace of the goddess must be dealt with severely. Ensure all learn this lesson, student and rebel alike.”

If they were acting against the goddess certainly. “Very well.”

“Jeralt shall be taking the vanguard alongside Lord Lonato and the Kingdom’s own armies, so the danger should be minimal,” said Rhea. “Regardless, do not think combat may elude you entirely. There is no telling what will happen in a real battle. That is all.” A lesson he knew well.

Rhea and Seteth left Father and Son alone.

“Heh, all that talk about being on reserve and we get sent back out together right away.”

“Are you taking overall command of the operation?”

Jeralt shook his head. “I’ll just be leading the detachment of knights, but your students, the Broken Blade and whatever troops you recruit are all under your purview.” Jeralt put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve always had a good sense for battle and I’ve heard good things about what you did in the Red Canyon, so I look forward to seeing it in action myself.”

“It won’t be impressive.”

Jeralt smirked. “Good, being impressive is a lot more dangerous than a stable and effective battleplan. Now get yourself rested up and take a few days before you tell the brats. They still have first battle jitters to work out.”

Among other difficulties.

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Byleth went and informed the Black Eagles they’d have an upcoming assignment but they needed rest for the moment. He’d make the official announcement in a few days.

“So, I take it your lesson will be on who exactly we’re fighting this time?” said an amused Edelgard.

Good, they were learning.

Garland Moon 2, Imperial Year 1180

While he stayed away from sword training there was another thing he could try out. The limitations of the power Sothis had granted him. Or was inside him all along.

Immediately interrupted by her suddenly appearing fully formed within his room. Floating in air, legs kicking at nothing.

“Can other people see you like this?”

“I do not believe so. Even still, who is likely to intrude upon your room but yourself?” Her words struck his ears and not his mind.

“I need to ask something of you.” The question burning his mind for five years.

“Go on, out with it.”

“Did you ever turn back time before Remire?”

“I must have, to know what I was doing.”

No, not in times of distant memory. “Five years ago in Enbarr I encountered an event like Remire. Fixing a mistake. At the time I thought I’d imagined it. The smell of blood, the anguished look in their eyes and screams of pain. The feeling of it all too real for my mind.”

“I was not awake at such a time. Surely you are aware of that.”

“There was a painting of sunset hills and calm blue waters. I remember it too vividly to be false.” He was no patron of the arts.

“It may be possible you accessed that without my knowledge, if some troublesome event placed your life in jeopardy.”

Not his. “There were other times. Where I had flashes. Insights. I would see ambushes before they came and strike out. Predict the movements of my enemies. Was that me… or you?”

“The power is tied to me yet my answers are far fewer than your questions. If I am this goddess… what does that make you? My avatar?”

Where were the answers that they sought?

Garland Moon 3, Imperial Year 1180

“If I could speak with you later.” Edelgard said, again and again to each of her classmates as they entered into their classroom. Each and every one accepting the invitation.

They all stayed behind. Prompting a question from the professor but she explained it away as a trust building exercise without his presence. He accepted in his typical fashion and left. He was such a contradiction. As fierce and merciless as she expected yet also selfless and accepting. How such a man was ever raised in Garreg Mach was fascinating indeed, but not the topic of discourse for the day.

“What’s up, Edie?” Dorothea asked when it was just Imperials left.

“I would like to here all your opinions on… the executions we were party too.”

“I’d rather not, if I can avoid it.” Dorothea blanched. “Bad enough they’ve got us out like soldiers. Was there really a need to kill the survivors?”

“Of course,” said Hubert, glowering in barely restrained amusement. “From such a tiny spark of doubt full rebellions are ignited.”

In ways the church would never expect.

“Can’t believe the professor just let that happen,” said Caspar. “I thought he was better than that. I know my father took prisoners whenever he could.” For all his impulses Caspar was also quick to realize what he just carelessly said. “Errr, sorry, Petra.”

“No. Our fathers’ clash is not reflecting on us,” she replied. “While I am thanking the Empire for min-i-mizing its casualties to my people, I have understanding that of why some must die.”

“There’s a difference between executions and fighting,” Linhardt pointed out. “Not that the dead would care either way.”

“Are we really safe here?” Bernadetta meekly spoke out.

“Of course,” Edelgard tried to reassure them. “So long as we respect the teachings, the church and the goddess they will always protect us. The professor will always protect us.”

“While I do not think it is that simple, I am in general agreement,” Ferdinand added on. “Those rapscallions ultimately chose their fate, one way or another.”

As they’d all choose one day. “I implore you all to not hold any sort of the grudge with the professor over this. He could not change the challenge the laws of the church more than any other.”

“I mean,” said Dorothea, “I get it, I do. It’s the job he has.”

“We all have our parts to play, Dorothea.”

The songstress giggled back. “That we do, I suppose. I wasn’t planning on holding a grudge in the first place, but I think getting a favor from the future emperor’s an even bigger prize.”

“Not quite what I had in mind.”

“And if any of you seek to exploit Lady Edelgard’s kindness I urge you to come to me first,” said Hubert.

Really, Hubert. She had to fight her own battles plenty.   
“I uh, I’ll try,” said Caspar.

“I don’t particularly care one way or another,” said Linhardt.

“Do I really have to?” said Bernadetta.

“Professor has shown much interest in Brigid, my opinion does not change.”

“The professor has their duty to uphold as much as any noble,” said Ferdinand. “To hold it against him would simply be foolish.”

The rest of the class came around as well. It was far, far easier than she ever imagined. “The professor will be thankful for your attitudes, of that I am certain.”

Garland Moon 4, Imperial Year 1180

After the day’s class was over he called the Black Eagles together and gave them the details on their new assignment. Ferdinand was aghast at the whole thing while Caspar exploded in excitement. Dorothea and Linhardt leaned more towards Ferdinand’s distaste while Petra sided more towards Caspar. Edelgard and Hubert were concerned with the motives behind such a reckless coup.

So Byleth brought out the information he’d sought out in independent research:

House Gideon stood in the center of the Kingdom. Its location made it the central trade hub for the entire nation, and it had grown rich off all the goods that passed through its lands. This made it the primary target for Regent Rufus’s tax policies. All the wealth that went to maintaining the trade routes now went to maintaining an army that didn’t patrol the roads as they should. The less prosperous merchants were extorted into poverty and turned to banditry to survive. Even Baron Gideon himself chafed under depleting coffers. No location in all of Faerghus suffered more bandit attacks than Gideon, so much so that even the territory capital was under constant assailment.

In light of the failure of the central government to help, Baron Gideon rallied his own forces and hosts of mercenaries to rebellion, put down those assailing his territory and declared independence, calling on local lords to rally against the corruption of the regent’s regime.

“Something about this situation seems strange to me,” said Edelgard. “Raising an army in defiance of the regent like this would only invite more violence and disorder.”

“Perhaps,” said Hubert, “the lethargic response by the regent emboldened Lord Gideon into believing such a venture had a chance.” Perhaps the Western Church?

“Aren’t the Kingdom knights supposed to be protecting folks?” said Caspar. “Why are they letting bandits just run amok like this?”

“Ever since the Tragedy of Dusucr, the situation inside the Kingdom has become increasingly unstable,” said Byleth.

“What is ‘The Tragedy of Duscur?’” asked Petra.

This was more an answer from the Blue Lions. “Eight years ago, an assassination attempt on the King of Faerghus was conducted during a diplomatic meeting with Duscur elders,” he explained. “In response, Regent Rufus launched an invasion with the intent of claiming justice, but was stopped by intervention of the Holy Church of Seiros.”

“Least there’s some real knights around here,” Caspar grumbled.

“Why did the church intervene? Were the Duscur not responsible?”

Byleth shook his head. “Eyewitness report no. Others say yes. Because of the ambiguity of the situation, the Duscur are prejudiced to this day and the stability of the Kingdom is in danger.”

“Ah, I have understanding.” Petra nodded with a slow grimace.

“It’s not quite fair to blame a whole people for what could only have been the actions of a few,” said Dorothea. “But that’s the nobility for you.” Her scorn earned a few shots of scorn back from other students.

“So, why are we being sent to handle some internal Kingdom dispute?” Linhardt asked. “Bandits intruding on a holy site are one thing but this seems entirely outside the church’s jurisdiction.”  
“Then was defending Duscur?” He put the question out.

“Some might call it an overreach of authority,” Edelgard answered too quickly.

“Hey, running around saving people is always right!” Caspar shouted in.

“I did not mean to imply otherwise.” Edelgard smiled. “Only that things are not so simple when your actions decide the fate of thousands, the course of nations and wars.”

“There you go again with that emperor stuff.”

“So, are you taking Lord Gideon’s side, Edie?” Dorothea asked.

“I said things are not so simple. Lord Gideon’s rash act may be just as disastrous as the Kingdom’s reaction to Duscur. I suppose we’ll have to find out if we confront him.”

If. Yes. With the discourse slowed for the moment he went into the armed forces of the Baron. Gideons location meant he needed to cover vast swathes of territory. So his personal forces had relied heavily on horsemen. WIth a penchant towards mounted archers. Though not as swift as Gautier horsemen they had a strong reputation all their own. In addition there was a considerable number of light infantry and faith healers. (The location again made it a good spot to locate important physicians.) 

“Ah horsemen,” said Ferdinand, “time to show off my spearwork! Not that I relish the idea of hurting people or such magnificent beasts but if they have risen in rebellion it is my duty as a noble to meet them in battle.”

“Not me! You’ll never see me getting near big scary horses.” said Bernadetta.

“Errr, have you forgotten we are on stable duty, Bernadetta?”

“I said big scary horses, OK!”

“Nevertheless, your skills with the bow will be one of our greatest assets, Bernadetta,” said Edelgard. “If Baron Gideon’s troops attempt hit and run tactics, your archers will be one of the only defenses we have.”

What a perfect segue. “And that is why I am making sure everyone is able to pass a rudimentary bow test this month,” said Byleth. “One cannot rely entirely on the specializations of others to cover your own weaknesses.”

“I see…” Edelgard kept stoic but her poor handling of the bow was clearly at the forefront of her concerns.

And one more task to announce. They needed to prepare a list of required supplies necessary for traveling to the Kingdom. Though the church and he would still purchase and ready the supplies at large he wanted to to get them in the habit of thinking about it themselves rather than leaving it to quartermasters. 

He’d already prepared the full list and kept its contents hidden, and until they departed the students could keep asking for his guidance until their list matched his. There were the obvious things, like food and water and carts and camping materials. But how many would think of winter clothing was the important thing.

And how many would work together and pass the test in secret?

Garland Moon 5, Imperial Year 1180

Twenty years old today. He was a real man now and no lady was gonna turn him down. Sylvain Jose Gautier threw on his uniform as slovenly as usual and headed out at the crack of dawn to get some love.

By the time classes began he’d only scared off three girls so today really was his day. Professor Hanneman droned on and on about some magic theorem or whatever and kept slipping into boring talk about Crest synergy with magic. Sylvain kept his eyes on things far more interesting though it wasn’t really a surprise when the doddering old professor threw out a question:

“Sylvain, which Crests affect one’s magical ability?

“All of them.”

“Hmph, correct.”

Of course all Crests affected magical aptitude. Even if something like his Crest of Gautier didn’t preserve magical stamina like Annette’s Crest of Dominic did, it was still affecting his body’s ability to manipulate magic in the first place. Just another blessing of the goddess to be thankful for.

Professor Hanneman didn’t bother to try and trick him again and eventually the school bells announced their freedom.

He bolted out of class as to not miss the best time of his life. Plenty of darling dates for the day. And walking out right next door was the biggest prize of all.

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“Hey there, Edelgard.” He later found her on one of the west side’s benches. “Is it just me or are you looking particularly beautiful today?”

She didn’t even blink at his attempt. Which was a damn good sign! “Hello, Sylvain. I admit, it never occured to me that even with the rumors of your philandering you would make an attempt on me.”

“Philandering? Now that’s just a host of hurtful rumors.”

“So all those women I see glaring daggers at you is…?”

“True love long lost.”

“Yet clearly you mean well with me.” She sighed and shook her head.

“Of course! Who could say no to an Imperial princess?”

She finally frowned at him. “Princess, huh? Tell me, Sylvain. Have you even given due thought as to what might happen should I accept your proposal?”

“Proposal’s moving a bit fast. I think we’d get something to eat, share our interests, see where the night takes us.”

“And what beyond that? If you somehow prove your sincerity and we wed? Would you accept being prince-consort so readily? Abandon your Gautier lands and move to the empire? Navigate the troubled political turmoil of the Empire and the burdens that come with marrying across nations?”

“Hey, that’s a load of heavy stuff you’re dropping so fast when I just want a meal.”

“This is the burden I am forced to carry every day. Thinking of the Empire’s future - Fódlan’s future. Would you be true and honest to me every day even should I have more consorts beyond you? Hubert would not let you stray so far.”

The creepy guy who always looked like he had a knife behind his back? Not someone he wanted to get involved with. Nor sharing his lady. “I would be more honest and true than any man you ever met. And, besides, all that still doesn’t mean we can’t have a simple meal together.”

“I see; what do you think about all this, Hubert?”

And that was his cue to run away really fast. Even Ingrid and Dimitri weren’t that scary.

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Another hour hadn’t brought any fine new prospects into his sights. What a shame. It’d looked like he’d be eating alone, today.

Though on entering the dining hall his eyes set on a certain stark beauty herself and the thoughts of “Then again” broke his musing.

“Hello, Shamir, here for dinner?”

“Mastering the obvious today, Sylvain?” the cool-hearted sniper replied. “Yes, I am here to eat. Do you need something?”

“Some fine conversation with a lovely lady?”

She snorted. Which was probably the most emotion he’d ever seen out of her. “I can’t - that’s.” She coughed to clear her humor. “No thanks.”

“Come on, eating alone all the time is boring.”

“Is that aimed at me, or yourself?”

“Errrr…” Damn she was sharp. “Both of us. Two outsiders need to stick together.”

“You’re actually making an attempt at this, huh?” Her amusement had replaced itself with genuine shock. He was doing something right. “It’s honestly pretty impressive. But no.”

“Hey, come on, why not?”

“I could go and find all your classmates and give you enough reasons for a month.” Ouch. “But I think I have a simple enough reason: You aren’t man enough for me.”

A few people listening in stifled chuckles and smirks at his expense. He’d show them. Because that sounded like a challenge, and an invitation. “How do you know without trying me?”

“Heh.” She smirked. Good sign, or bad? “Tell you what, you do something for me and I’ll give you a chance at dinner.”

“Anything for you, Shamir.”

“Defeat Professor Byleth in combat.”

He had to blink a few times at that. “That’s it?”  
“If you really think it’s so simple you’ll go off rushing to do it. Take as long as you like, but just make sure he’s taking you seriously when he does. No lying, he won’t if I ask.”

Sure the professor had plenty of skill but with unlimited chances he could score a win once. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

“It’s a deal.”

“It’s a date.”

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Half rest of his day was spent spreading his time around with all his wonderful women. Never getting anywhere. 

Served them right.

The other half was trying to find the professor to get a duel out of him. Every time he asked he seemed to have just missed him. Until finally a pair of lovely clerics pointed him over to the cathedral. Where right on entering the grandiose building the professor approached him and invited him to tea. He wasn’t a fine lady but after a day of fine ladies he could use the break.

The garden gazebo had already been reserved and a fresh pot of tea was already steaming. “Oh, Professor, my thanks for the tea but I got lots of pretty girls to go around with, so let’s keep this short.”

“You could have rejected this if you were so busy.”

“Hey, that would just be downright crude refusing an invitation like that.” Sylvain took a waft of the Seiros Tea. “Whoa, how’d you pin down my favorite tea?” Simple and sharp. Just like he liked it.

“It wasn’t hard.”

Sylvain took one of the lemon tarts as well. The sharp snap to his tongue was refreshing after a day of bitterness. “Hope you observe the ladies that hard. Maybe you’d want to accompany me on a little journey when the day’s not all about me.”

“I’ll be busy.”

“Not even waiting for the date, eh? Ouch. Oh well, more for me. But there’s a little something else you could do for me too.” Sylvain took a few sips. “This is… wow. I didn’t take you for a brewer, Professor.”

“What did you take me for?”

“Someone without any hobbies. You just look so serious all the time. Like you’d never taken a break in your life.” Or smiled. Or frowned. Or had any emotion whatsoever. There were statues more articulated than he was.

“So what about your hobbies? Beyond women.”

“Me? Ah, who cares.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Twist my arm why don’t you? Well, if you must know I’ve got my eye on art. And let me tell you Garreg Mach’s got plenty. I appreciate all the fine statues and well-done paintings around here.”

“Because they’re of women?”

“Hey! I take offense to that. Sure, plenty of them have lovely ladies but I enjoy landscape painting now and again or some of the seminal works on pottery.”

Sylvain followed up on the conversation and they spent a bit more time chatting before Sylvain finished his tea and Byleth presented a vase of gladiouses.

“I’d really prefer flowers from a girl but I won’t say no, Professor.” They were gonna be the only flowers he got today, after all. “But uh, getting back on track, could you do me a little favor, Professor?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking, I really need to start taking my studies seriously, so if you have the time, maybe you’d like to get in a few spars every so often.”

“Sure.”

Easy as it could be. He liked it. “Good, let’s head to the training ground right away.”

“Let me return my tea set first.”

“Sure, sure.” 

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Sky sure was pretty. A subtle pastel of fading pinks and blacks. Like that picture he saw before Father tore it down and shoved a lance in his hand.

“Wait, what?” Sylvain leaned up as his skull cracked with pain. “Ugh, what happened?”

“You told me not to go easy on you.”

Getting that date was gonna be harder than he thought.

Garland Moon 6, Imperial Year 1180

“Dedue, may I be speaking with you?”  
Petra confronted him nearby the fishing pond. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” He did not betray any emotion in his tone or movements.

It would not last.

“I have heard that your homeland has been ruined.”

“True.” No emotion or troubled movements.

“You do not tremble at the idea?”

“If a man of Duscur acts out he gets punished.”

“What? That is terrible!”

“It is fact.”

Yes, it was. “I am offering my apologies.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“No, ignorance must be replaced with wisdom.”

Deduce finally blinked. “Your circumstances are not mine.”

“No, they are not.” If Father or her were harmed there would be war. If Dedue was harmed there would only be tears. “But I will offer my cares if you wish to accept them.”

“That is not necessary.” He turned to leave. “But thank you.” 

Their circumstances were similar, yet as wide as the distance between their countries.

Garland Moon 7, Imperial Year 1180

It was as simple as blinking to trigger the world to still. Reduce all the chaos of the world to perfect unmoving order.

He spent the whole week training in it. Abusing it in petty ways. Studying its intricacies and foibles. Only a few hours at most could be remade. Three times a day. One pulse would recharge after a full day, no sooner. Any time of great upheaval would ration the pulses to prevent the most critical of disaster. Avoid expending any the day before a mission or combat.

The way time worked from his turn was peculier. His own actions could be completely different. He could turn aside a blow he had missed before, or change his strike or movements. If he followed the path exactly the same before the events would play out just as exactly. Yet a slight change in the step could completely change the flow of a spar.

Likewise he tested out mere luck. He tossed a coin and it settled on heads. He reset to the time in flight and again on heads. He reset to the flip and slightly changed his angle. This time it landed on its side of all things.

He experimented with someone else flipping the coin. It landed on arrows; reset to flight and arrows again. Reset to the flip and arrows. Again and convinced his partner to wait and again it fell on its side.

His own actions could change. But if the path was determined before he couldn’t change it.

The wind, the birds, the dogs and cats around the monastery all went the same paths after a turn back. The patrols in the sky and ground were all the same.

With subtle prodding in conversation new secrets were revealed. A different movement in a spar was victory. Entirely different days from the slightest effort. The power of the goddess. Sothis was the goddess. There was no other explanation now. Even she agreed.

An answer that haunted the both of them.

Garland Moon 8, Imperial Year 1180

Edelgard sent another arrow of target and accompanied it with a snap of irritation.

Normally she was so strong and confident the sudden weakness she showed reminded Bernadetta of herself.

But no matter how many times Lady Edelgard failed she wouldn’t give up.

Something that was completely unlike Bernadetta.

“Bernadetta,” Edelgard’s call nearly sent her running from behind the pillar. “I don’t know what reason you’re staring at me but it can’t be to learn archery.”

“O-of course not!”

“Then what are you here for?”

“I--that is--I’m!” She gripped the stone of the pillar and hoped it was enough.

“Yes?”

“You have too much tension in your shoulders — ah I’m sorry!” She ran out before Edelgard could punish her!

Garland Moon 9, Imperial Year 1180

Caspar shouted loud enough that Petra was too slow on a dodge and he landed two hits on her. But it was the only two hits he could as her sword kept him at bay and slowly struck out at his overexposed sides and limbs.

“The winner is Petra,” a judge declared.  
“Ugh, not gonna let my father know about this…”

“You speak of your father often, from what I am hearing.”

“Don’t think so, well, maybe around you?”

“Because your father defeated my country?”

Caspar winced back. “Yeah, I, I mean I’m sorry even if he didn’t kill your father he still killed plenty of your people.”

“As mine did yours. I will repeat my words of earlier: There is no guilt on us for our fathers.”

“People don’t forget easy, I think…”

“Then we must be doing what we can to ensure there’s no guilt for the future.”

“Now that I can get behind! Even if all I can really do is hit people.”

“Then hit people as hard as you can, Caspar!”

“All right!” He slammed his fists together. “Let’s go again!”

Garland Moon 10, Imperial Year 1180

The Black Eagles had been conversing more and more amongst themselves recently. Frequently he would be walking and find an Eagle speaking. Caspar and Linhardt. Edelgard and Bernadetta. Ferdinand and Dorothea. Hubert and Petra. He avoided intruding, or eavesdropping. But comradery was certain to rise.

Now if only they would coordinate on their assignment.

Though it did give him another idea.

Garland Moon 11, Imperial Year 1180

After class there was a summons up to Jeralt’s office.

Where Christophe Gaspard awaited him. The slim boy from back then had put on quite an amount of bulk. Arms thick beneath armor and a strong back supporting him and his movements. Scuffs and damage painted the armor as much as the blue finish did. He affixed a strong smile on thin lips at seeing Byleth and gave a hearty wave. “It’s been too long, Byleth.”

“Christophe.” He nodded at him. “Has there been a development?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, but I wanted to get here early so we can begin solidifying our response to Gideon.” Christophe ran a hand through his dark blue hair. Doing his best to keep the long locks out from his blue eyes. Too concerned with fighting to get a proper trim. “I hear you’re a teacher now?”

“Black Eagles.”

“They could use a win.” Christophe’s smile turned into a smirk. “Someone needs one.”

Jeralt joined shortly after and the leadership of the three factions began hashing out the plan on their available information. They’d depart Garreg Mach on the 28th, travel through Magdred Way to Castle Gaspard. Spend the night then advance north to Gideon’s territory. All the surrounding feudal lords would be advancing as well as the Kingdom’s central army, and it was hoped to end the campaign before the moon had even passed.

It was a reckless hope. But that was Christophe always.

Once Gideon was contained the church would have rein to pursue his belongings for evidence of any connection to the Western Church. As well as be presented with the ones Lord Lonato had acquired.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Jeralt asked. “Accusing the Western Church like this…. If they’re not connected it would worsen relations between the church and Kingdom even more and if you’re wrong...

“Without a doubt, the Western Church is connected.” Christophe took in a deep breath. “Because they attempted to recruit me against Central.”

Jeralt leaned back in his chair at the heresy on display. “How long ago?”

Christophe averted his gaze. “After Duscur.”

“Dammit Christophe.” Jeralt nearly slammed his desk. “All that time during the war and you kept that secret?”

“I know how it sounds. That I was trying to hide this. But with Faerghus in chaos I couldn’t have made things worse by involving a purge.”

Because Rhea would purge the Western Church for conspiring against her.

“And because…” Christophe steeled himself for even worse. “A part of me believed that.”

“Keep that quiet you fool,” Jeralt hissed at the bald sedition on display.

“I took no prisoners - not once as a member of the Blue Lions. Anyone who defied us defied the goddess. They died. The Western Church tried to convince me - tried. They showed me evidence across the years of ruthless act after ruthless act. I knew it to be true felt that fleeting glimpse that maybe they were in the right—”

“What part of keeping that quiet did you not understand?” Jeralt got up from his chair and nearly slapped the man.

“But I didn’t.” He desperately pleaded. Because of you - what you did for Duscur.”

“Duscur?”

“And… because of Byleth.” Christophe sighed. Like the weight of training armor had fallen off his shoulders. “The Central Church has committed acts of evil - but just as many good. They prevented Duscur when my own country committed it. Where the Western Church was more convinced with slaughter than life. I held my tongue to not escalate the conflict. But this Gideon rebellion? I could do so no longer.”

Jeralt looked ready to bury his face in his hands. “Get out of here. I need to sort this all out.”

“I have faith in you, Jeralt. I always have.” Christophe left the office. Not a hint of fear trailing his face.

“The tenants dictate we should turn him in,” Byleth immediately declared.

“The tenants aren’t always right, kid,” snapped Jeralt. “What does your heart tell you?”

Nothing. “If you want to disobey Rhea, why are we still here?”

The words cooled the anger Jeralt had been heating up with. “Because… because an uncertain life on the road is no place to raise a child.”

What did that mean? 

“Look, I’m ordering you not to tell Lady Rhea. But I’d much prefer if you choose not to yourself.”

“Understood.” He left trailing after Christophe.

And what is it that you truly want?

To find… “Nothing.”

Come now, there’s no need to lie to me. I can feel that flicker of emotion within when you speak with the little ones. When you twist your mind thinking of that Rhea. There is a heart somewhere in here. And I will hear it pounding one day, I am sure of that. 

No, she wouldn’t.

He was different. He always would be. Nothing could change that. Not even the goddess.

Garland Moon 12, Imperial Year 1180

He should have searched for Christophe. Done more to track him down and find out his guilt. 

But he didn’t.

Tenants or Father?

Rhea or Jeralt?

That wasn’t something to choose.

Something he would never have to.

No, he was doing it now.

Maybe that confusion was what prompted another concern for his well being from Edelgard in class.

“Baron Gideon is faced with a difficult prospect,” he deflected. “Should he rise against what he feels is injustice? Or suffer under it?”

“Is that… really what you’re concerned about, my teacher?” The worry on her face was true… yet…

“For the moment.”

“If someone rises against impossible odds, it’s because they either think it isn’t impossible, or that staying quiet is more impossible.”

“Your words make perfect sense.”

Hubert said, “It would not be difficult to surmise that there could be outside help if the former is the reason.”

“What if,” said Petra, “it is the ones who are being responsible for Duscur?”

The Western Church, responsible for Duscur? “It is not an impossibility.” If it was true then then he’d need the Broken Blade. “If such a thing comes to pass, I will protect you all.” Some of the girls giggled at his declaration.

“Thank you, my teacher. But we also cannot rely on you to shoulder the whole of this burden yourself.”

“Of course.” The goddess had her fair share of the burden as well.

Garland Moon 13, Imperial Year 1180

It was another wonderful birthday for Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! After putting all due consideration into his appearance as befitting a nobleman of his distinguished status he threw open the doors of his room to the mounds of presents that were sure to await him.

Only a single package did. Surely it must be some mistake. Receiving only an allowance from his father for his day of birth. Not even a note of congratulations! He confronted the delivery service directly and demanded answers. And yet all he got was confirmation after confirmation of nothing!

Why, even his classmates seemed deprived of any desire to reward him on the day. And after all he was planning to do for them!

Well, he wasn’t going to let their lack of manners ruin his birthday. Or theirs down the line. Raphael at the very least he could understand. The man’s financial situation was not secure in the least. Nor was Leonie’s for that matter. Yet that Claude would deny him this basic decency? Truly his mysterious lineage worked against him.

But such a lack of social graces would not deter him. Not on this day! He had many things planned.

Once classes had excused for the weekend he saw fit to undertake his monumental number of tasks. First and foremost the one he found watering flowers in the green house. He waited for her to finish her gardening before approaching. “Good day, Miss Annette. Might you have a moment to talk?”

“Uh, I’m kinda busy, but if it’s not something big I could wait a bit I guess.”

“Then I will keep this as brief as possible. You attended the royal school of sorcery in Fhirdiad, did you not?”

“Ah, yeah, I did. Two years ago. Graduated and everything. Why?”

“I was to attend that prestigious institute myself. Talks were in negotiation but… shall we say the state of the kingdom made my father think the better of it.”

“Well, Fhirdiad was safe. Mostly.”

“Indeed as your very presence dictats. Still…” he shook his head, “no, I must focus. I request that you relay to me the intricacies of your time within that institute.”

“I’m not much of a teacher, Lorenz.”

“If I was asking for simple instruction the holy church has much more accomplished individuals.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Not what I meant. I wish to know of your personal experiences.”

“Well, you’re asking quite a lot and…”

“You are still preoccupied with whatever it is you are to be doing next, yes? Perhaps I could lend a fellow noble a hand as you correct my lack of knowledge.”

“That’s really nice of you but it’s all solo stuff and I’d probably get in trouble if I got help.”

“That is a shame.” He couldn’t fathom she would be wanting to avoid someone with such a distinguished lineage as himself. “However, should you ever find yourself with time for pleasure I would be most gracious if you would indulge my curiosity. House Gloucester never forgets a kindness.”

“Ummm, right. I’ll just be going now.” Annette ran off with quite the spring in her step. He must have taken up more time than expected. He’d apologize upon their next meeting.

The majority of daylight after was spent reconnecting with various ladies of noble birth and politely inviting them to the dining hall but for some perplexing reason they all turned him down. Even that slovenly Sylvain managed a dinner partner for the evening. Most vexing but not the day to let it get to him!

But just as he was about to forsake his chances the perfect partner walked into the hall. “Ingrid,” he called to her, “would you do me the honor of sharing a meal together?”

“Oh, hello, Lorenz, while I am certainly famished I’m not one for conversation when consuming a meal.”

“That is quite all right, meals shared in with a quiet sense of peace and decorum are quite well-suited to the nobility. Should such an arrangement of silence find itself uncomfortable I would even be willing to talk at length about a subject if you wish solely to listen.”

“That’s er… quite the offer, but really, I can’t take you away from all your busy duties like that. I’m sure there’s plenty of others who’d love to talk with you.”

He kept his smile. “Yes, certainly, but my eyes are on you for the moment.” She certainly was a fetching young lady. A true natural beauty despite a lack of make-up. Firm arms and well-cared for hair. She was a woman of fine breeding for sure. “We are both of fine families, it is only natural that I would wish to become more familiar.”

“Wow, you're moving as fast as Sylvain does.”

“Please don’t compare me to that lout,” he barely held back from snapping. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for women. Especially those as capable as you’ve proven to be.”

“Hmmm, well, all right. I’ll say again that I’m not the best conversation partner during a meal though.”

“Hardly a problem!” For he was Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! There was no obstacle in his search of a bride.

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He never expected to find a person that could consume food as quickly as Raphael could. Especially not among the nobility and even moreso a lady. 

Lorenz’s slow, savory bites had cleared but half his plates while Ingrid was almost finished with her third. She at least kept more food in her stomach than Raphael did and did not speak while full but it was so sharply in contrast to her strong image that he found himself staring at her beauty more than once.

“Is there something on my face?”

“N-no.”

“I knew this was a bad idea.” She set down her plate. “I’m sorry for disgusting you like this.” She quickly grabbed her plates over Lorenz’s protests and hurried away.

“Oh Lorenz you fool.” How ignoble to make a lady of the blood feel unwanted. He’d respond to his boorishness with twice the kindness next time!

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He prayed over his mistakes.

“Lorenz.” The new professor Byleth caught up to him on a stroll to the cathedral. “Would you care for a pot of tea?”

“An invite to tea, Professor? You are too kind.” One of the only kindnesses on a day that should be full of them.

The garden gazebo was already prepared and a few other tea aficionados were engaging in pleasant chatter at their own nearby tables. It was a welcome diversion to see some happy faces on the day.

The two of them sat down at the sparkling white table at the gazebo and the professor procured a cup with the faint patterns of pink roses and a delightfully familiar aroma. “Rose petal blend? My word Professor, you’ve a master’s eye at tea.” The black tea had a subtle aromatic taste to it as he maintained proper etiquette to taste. “And a grandmaster’s brewing skills. My word. I think you are partnered with Ferdinand and myself as the best brewers here.” A shame that the heir to House Aegir was not here to enjoy with them.

“It seemed fitting.”  
Lorenz put down the cup and crested a single finger over the red rose on his label. “Seemed? I would not address such praise if you did not deserve it. Rose petal blend is quite the expensive tea. As gracious as I am to receive it, I cannot in good consciousness accept it without some sort of compensation. Come, when is your birthday so I may begin preparations in earnest.”

“Guardian Moon One.”

“Excellent. Be forewarned that when Lorenz Hellman Gloucester celebrates all of House Gloucester does.”

“You don’t need to go so far.”

“Nonsense. You - across territory and house - lifted my spirits today like no other. It would be an insult to my noble duty not to repay you in kind one day.”

“This day was supposed to be about you.”

“And it is a day I will spend how I see fit. Even if that means considering others, yes?”

The professor took it with that concerning blank look he always had. There was no fighting and quite a bit of chatter afterwards. As their delightful little escapade faded with the sun the professor gifted him with a vase full of bluebells. He’d make sure to deserve this gift later!

Garland Moon 14, Imperial Year 1180

Dorothea giggled. Giving promises off to Sain as the foolhardy knight whisked himself away with dreams of tomorrow. The same promises she’d made yesterday to Kent. She caught sight of his eavesdropping, on accident he assured her. Admitting he’d done it twice on accident.

She quickly admitted her search for a partner. Finally putting in context the constant fliratations she’d leveled at him. “This is my future, I’m talking about,” she said, explaining her shifts of fancy. “It’s not something that really concerns you.”

“It does if it hurts you.”

She paused for a moment, lips widening… before recovering with a wink. “Oh my, Professor, I think my heart just skipped a beat. Maybe you’ll keep such a sensuous eye on me even in the future, hmm?”

“Of course.” Wait, what?

“I… I was just joking.” Nonetheless she was blushing. “But it does make me happy you think of me that way. Maybe I can finally get that cup of tea?”  
“Soon. I promise.” He had to figure out what was going wrong with himself first…

“Don’t make a girl a promise, if you know you won’t keep it.” She giggled again. Fake. Hollow. “I’ll be waiting.” She walked off. Humming some little song. The same one she was practicing in Enbarr.

What was that about?

Sothis was just as confused as he was. Not just that either. Where was the scorn he earned for condemning the prisoners. Had Edelgard been that convincing?

This year’s students were so unique.

Garland Moon 15, Imperial Year 1180

“I wish I could accompany you,” Ashe’s voice, with his gentle tone and pleasing demeanor. Sound around the corner before Byleth did.

“Sorry, Ashe, but it’s the Eagles who are heading north.” Christophe’s, of course. Commanding with a hint of regret.

“I could arrange a temporary assistance if that’s what you want,” said Byleth, turning the corner on the two brothers face-to-face.

Ashe jumped in surprise. “Oh, Professor! I really couldn’t impose that on you.”

“It wouldn’t be that difficult.” 

“Let him Ashe,” said Christophe. “Besides, Misty and Brock would be excited to see you again.”

“Come on,” said Ashe, “with you and Lonato around they’re taken care of plenty.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t miss their big brother. Or has Garreg Mach changed your dream from protecting Gaspard territory?”

That seemed to wear down Ashe’s defenses to a deep contemplation. “Well, our mission for the month is just some patrols so as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody.”

“More people would probably be hurt if you didn’t come along.” Christophe threw his arm around his adopted brother. “Thanks for considering the kid’s situation, Byleth.”

It was as simple as Byleth expected. A quick request to Hanneman and a few drops of blood saw him confirm the temporary transfer with a smile and excitement.   
Ashe’s face lit up with excitement when he told him. “Thank you, Professor! I’ll make sure to work twice as hard to make it up to you!”

Having Ashe would bring in another qualified archer. It was a practical move.

When Christophe came up to him later he was doubling down on the thanks. “And Byleth,” he said. “It may seem strange to you, considering how our lives have turned out. But I, well I think of you as a friend.”

That was more believable than a lot of what was going on recently.

“Cassandra too, of course. And Glenn. They miss you all the time. Honestly it gets tiring hearing them talk about you so much.”

“The Broken Blade misses them too.”

“Heh, yeah.” A small smile moved on Glenn’s lips. “Stupid, isn’t it? Finding happiness thinking about the war…”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course, yeah.” That smile dipped a bit. “It just… it felt right, protecting people. Even if they were Imperials. But what’s going on in the Kingdom is nothing like that. It’s just brother turning on brother.” He sent a sigh out alongside a frown. “Ashe’s parents… wouldn’t have died if Faerghus was stable. Even if it means I never met him I wish it were true.”

“We can’t face away from reality.”

“Harsh as ever.” That bitter smile returned. “Right as ever. Heh, you’re talking a lot more.”

“Comes with the job.”

“There a reason you didn’t take the Lions?”

“The Black Eagles needed more guidance.”

Christophe mulled his words over for a moment before laughing. “Guess the future of Faerghus has a chance then.”

Garland Moon 16, Imperial Year 1180

“Ashe will be accompanying us on our monthly mission, so he’ll also be sitting in on classes for the rest of the month.”

The Black Eagles took the news in all their ways. Caspar gave him a good wave.  
“Hello, everyone. I know this might seem a bit forward, but I hope I don’t get in anyone’s way.”

“It will be fine, Ashe,” said Edelgard. “Your assistance this month will be welcomed.”

“I’m not sure how helpful I can be, but I plan on doing my best!”

Good. “Take whatever seat you want and we’ll get you up to date.”

Ashe took up a spot next to Bernadetta and she only turned away after he greeted her.

With that sorted Byleth informed the newcomer of the monthly assignment. Being the only Kingdom local he’d certainly get prepared for winter equipment. A few others, Edelgard, Dorothea, Petra and Caspar offered to help. A step in the right direction. Hopefully they would expand it as needed.

Garland Moon 17, Imperial Year 1180

Christophe walked into one of their training sessions on the day. Introductions were had and the vetern knight kept a close eye of his own. Watching at first, offering little tips of his own to the lance-users. And plenty to Ashe, which the boy took happily.

“Have you ever fought our professor, Christophe?” Caspar asked on a break.

“A few times. Never could get a win.”

“You always held back,” Byleth reminded him.

“I wasn’t in the mood to go full force against a twelve-year-old.”

“Cassandra always yelled at you for that.”

“And I yelled at her plenty for going all out against you.”

“Wait, Cassandra?” said Caspar, again. “Thunderstrike Cassandra? Or Faerghus.”

“Here we go…”

“Yes,” Byleth acknowledged.

“Woah! She’s like, one of the strongest knights in Fodlan, right up there with your dad! I mean, I guess it shouldn’t be surprised and all but wow! What’s she like? I hear she can destroy an entire army with one swing of Thunderband!”

“She’s annoying,” Christophe quickly replied. “It’s all ‘fight fight fight’ and no concerns about her safety. Really, she’s a massive headache.” One he smiled about though.

“That’s uh.. Interesting.”

“Having a Hero’s Relic is not strength enough,” said Edelgard. 

“Trust me,” said Christophe, “even without her Relic she’s still plenty strong. Not many can go toe-to-toe with a Demonic Beast by themselves. Or Byleth.”

“Are you saying our professor is as strong as one of those scary things?!” Bernadetta quickly shot up.

“I’ve never fought one,” he admitted. “We never should have to, either.”

“Good, good, those things can stay far away from Bernie.”

“Sorry, think we’re getting off track here.”

“Right, right,” Caspar nodded along. “Hey, maybe you’d like to fight?”

“No wonder you idolize Cassandra.” He smiled about it anyway. “Sorry, not after you’re already tired from training.”

“Then what about fighting the professor.”

“No.” He snapped. “I prefer going into battle with everything intact.”

“Yeesh, he’s not that strong. He’s never hurt us so bad when fighting.”

“I could go unarmed,” said Byleth.

“That would just make it worse.”

Garland Moon 18, Imperial Year 1180

Her sword was sharp. Sharper than her father’s in some ways. But it lacked that terrifying intensity that nearly killed him.

“You’re Petros’s daughter, are you not?” Chirstophe asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“I am,” Petra confirmed. “How is it that a noble of the Kingdom knows my father’s name? Most of Fodlan do not.”

“It’s complicated, but I like to keep abreast of all of Fodlan’s affairs.” She had his eyes. His hair. Even that edge hidden by a hunter’s smile. “You have an opening when you conduct your backswing. Keep track of your footwork more and don’t overextend.”

“I will be keeping that in mind. I am thanking you.”

Thanking someone who nearly killed her father. What a farce.

Garland Moon 19, Imperial Year 1180

The orange-haired noble of the empire impaled his spear into a training dummy with swiftness and accuracy.

“That was a good stab,” said Christophe. “Strong enough to get through armor, fast enough to hit even the swift and your footwork’s solid.”

“My thanks, Christophe.”

“Looks like you’ll get plenty of targets before the end of the month.”

“Most certainly. Though regrettable in its own manner to take a life. I do not run from battle, I do not wish to run to it blindly either.”

“A smart stance to have.”

“A stance all should have, I think.”

Quite the earnest belief in his eyes saying that. “Some might take that to an endorsement of Baron Gideon’s rebellion.”

“Certainly not. Whatever his reasons he endangers his people for no hope of success.”

Familiar words. “Sometimes hope can be pried even from the abyss.”

“I cannot disagree with such an idea, even if I find it rather unlikely.”

“I’ve seen people struggle against fantastic odds on the chance of a hope. Don’t underestimate.”

“I never planned too.”

Garland Moon 20, Imperial Year 1180

“My apologies for not coming sooner, Your Highness,” Christophe announced. “I wish to acclimate myself with my current allies first.”

“That’s all right, Christophe,” His Highness replied. “Your business is far more important than courtly manners.”

“Nevertheless, they must be offered.”

His Highness didn’t seem to see it that way with the way he frowned. “Cassandra mentioned you were good friends with Professor Byleth, how are things going?”

“He is much the same as he ever was.”

“I see, and the Eagles?”

“They seem to be a competent bunch. Should battle come they seem steady enough to trust my back to. Not as much as the Blue Lions, I imagine.”

“They certainly trounced us in the mock battle. Though the Battle of the Eagle and Lion won’t be that easy.”

Cassandra meant they swept that with ease. “I wish I could see it for myself, Your Highness. But the situation in the Kingdom is unlikely to be settled before then”

“That is a shame.”

“Is there—”

“No,” the prince cut him off instantly. “Things must take their proper course. If I make an attempt on the throne early it could prove as much a mistake as what Baron Gideon attempts.”

“I understand, Your Highness.” Even if others might not.

Garland Moon 21, Imperial Year 1180

Her arrow was now hitting the rings but she’d still yet to land a single bullseye. Bernadetta did it as a matter of course. Hubert more often than not. Petra with plenty of her own. Even Linhardt managed one when he bothered.

She shouldn’t be so frustrated over all of it but she couldn’t afford to make mistakes.  
Another shot still didn’t come close.

“You’re taking your shot too soon.”

Edelgard turned around. “Hello, Ashe,” she said. “I’ve tried taking more time but it’s not been any more effective.” She looked back at the dozen shots off mark. “In a real battle such precision isn’t necessary. Speed and discipline is.”

“That is true, but it looks like you’re pretty frustrated regardless.”

She couldn’t deny that. “Yes. Excuses remain just that. I still need to be proficient.” The Broken Blade were such an unorthodox unit composition that being an archer would enhance them greatly.

“I could offer some tips, if you want?”

“I’d like that.” Bernadetta’s offers were spastic and confusing. Lyn’s were too advanced and the professor had so much on his mind she didn’t want to press any further.

“And maybe you can help me with the monthly assignment, too.”

“Of course, Ashe.”

Garland Moon 22, Imperial Year 1180

Her birthday falling on a weekday would have given her the perfect excuse to stay in bed and open up a big bag of sweet sugar cookies and never put on her uniform. But her duties as princess took priority, even if she had no real duties on a day off.

Hubert was quickly by her side with good wishes and some flowers which she declined. Money on such a thing would be better spent preparing for the future. Even if her heart wanted to accept them. 

Class passed by with all its acute insights. With help from Bernadetta, the professor and Ashe she was able to land shots on the targets more often than not these days. It should not have been that difficult, really. But the feel of the bowstring sent shivers down her fingers every time she touched one, even through her gloves.

Even when the lessons were over there was much to be done still with ensuring the well-being of her classmates. Turning down Ferdinand’s bothersome challenges; making sure Bernadetta actually ate with others. Enduring a training session with Caspar. Seeing how Dorothea was adjusting to life in such an institution. Checking with Linhardt’s Crest pursuits. Ensuring nothing was bothering Petra. Turning down Professor Hanneman’s attempts at investigating her Crest of Seiros. Helping Lysithea clean up in the library over her objections. Fostering a working relationship with Ashe for his deployment. Making sure Ephraim didn’t let his hubris overtake him like Ferdinand or Eirika’s distaste for fighting at all to slow her own progress.

Burdensome, but enlightening to the struggles everyone faced in their daily lives. She honestly could have used a quick trip to the sauna after it all but someone came up with a nervous gait.

“Hello, Ingrid, did you need something?”

“Oh, greetings, Your Highness. Yes, there actually was, if you’ll forgive me for being forward.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, I would like to engage in a duel with Your Highness. My fiance is a strong proponent of learning versatile battle scenarios.”

“Does Dedue not provide an adequate training partner for you?”

“Ah, Dedue yes… he is… a suitable partner. But I would be remiss not to seek out as many available training avenues as I have available.”

There was a hint of resentment lingering behind those words. Perhaps she thought the Duscur were responsible. Still, Dedue certainly wasn’t. And neither were any Duscur… “I do not have long but I will oblige.”

“Ah, excellent. I won’t keep you long.”

The two traversed to the training grounds and took up spots with their weapons. Ingrid advanced against Edelgard carefully but when she struck she was quite fast. With precision and speed she was able to get a number of strikes against Edelgard, but she lacked power. Though she could twist with technique, when Edelgard pressed forward earnestly she was able to leverage the strength difference to drive the other woman utterly on the defensive until a strong chop to the side earned a concession.

“Whew. Thank you for letting me get those hits in but Your Highness certainly is exceptional.”

“I imagine you said much the same to Dimitri.”

“O-of course. Your Highnesses are truly astounding opponents. Watching you two engage directly during the mock battle was fascinating to watch. When the Battle of the Eagle and Lion comes I imagine that will be even greater.” 

And one day a battle greater than that. “Perhaps. Or the professor might have me go up against Claude next time around.”

“That would be interesting as well. Though I hope we win before that.” She certainly was enthusiastic about battling.

“Did your interest in combat develop as a result of your engagement or was it your own prerogative?”

“Oh, ummm…” The girl had suddenly gone quite bashful. Indicating the former rather clearly. “I don’t think it’s all right to display myself before royalty like that.”

“I would not have asked if I didn’t wish to know.”

“It’s not a very interesting tale.”

“I wouldn’t know unless you told me.”

“No, sorry. Thank you for the duel but I must be going.” Ingrid ran off in a huff.

Leaving Edelgard standing with a frown. Maybe it was more part of Ingrid’s upbringing, unable to hide against a royal decree. Or maybe that upbringing was exactly what led her to be unable to open up about her concerns. Whatever the circumstances she had grievances she felt like airing yet wouldn’t. Hopefully the mask she put on wouldn’t become her face for sure.

Hopefully.

Her professor caught up with her as she left the training grounds and had a most peculiar offer. For some reason or another her teacher saw fit to invite her. While she couldn’t admit to hating singing, she was less than familiar with the choir’s hymns. For whatever reason he also saw fit to bring Professor Manuela with them. Perhaps to even out the lack of harmony with her delicate yet somehow fierce vocals. Which seemed so familiar as she heard them…

Thankfully she was happy for a moment without Hubert. As much as she needed to rely on him, he could be suffocating at times.

“Edelgard, would you care for some tea?” her teacher asked after the recital had ended.

A time to just relax and eat some sweet treats? “Yes, I would.”

Byleth brought her over to the garden gazebo. Alone. All the other seats sat empty. Curious considering the time. But it would be a chance to indulge herself without any unwanted rumors fluttering about.

They took their seats and Byleth prepped the tea he’d prepared in advance.

The welcome flavor fluttering through the air. “Bergamot.” That was incredibly expensive. “You didn’t have to go out of your way to prepare this for me.” 

“I’d prefer you enjoy yourself here.” He poured the cup which she delicately took. Warm, even through her gloves. “And here.” He pulled out a small box… containing the same type of gloves she’d lost a few days ago.

“Oh, thank you, my teacher, I’ve been looking everywhere for these.” Even if she had a dozen pairs she didn’t want to waste any. She took a sip of the tea and let the flavor rush all over her tongue and warm its way down her throat. “It’s delicious,” she complimented him. The tea, the gloves, the seclusion. She took a bit out of one of the cream puffs and had to hold back a smile. “You’re much more meticulous than I would have guessed.”

Those deep blue eyes that seemed to pierce all. Without even asking, he knew what her favorite tea was. Identified favorite food after favorite food or prepared exquisite meals all his own. It was fascinating the insight he had. For all their crimes the church was never without quality.

Yet one day those paths would go their separate ways. It would be a silly, girlish fantasy to think someone raised by the church would turn against it. The son of the most celebrated knight to ever live. Handpicked by the archbishop herself.

“You have a keen eye yourself.”

“That’s true. If I was born somewhere besides House Hresvelg I imagine life would have been much simpler. But as the heir apparent I must keep vigilant of every scenario so I do not lose any advantage for the Empire.”

Vigilant against such things as what she could feel in her very blood when she looked at him. It was a feeling that couldn’t possibly be right. Yet made sense all the same. 

“It’s not just for the Empire, is it? I saw you in the library, with Lysithea and the training grounds with Ingrid.”

“I’ve seen you offer guidance across houses as well.”

“You said we were similar.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She laughed. It was… nice. Just sipping tea. Trying to forget, if only for a day. Even if she failed. “Something about you just…” No. She had to stomp it down. Whatever she was feeling. There would be enough heartbreak in the future. No need to add to it.

And he just waited for her to continue. Or finish. Or just accepted she didn’t want to expand on it. Just as he acted without regard for her status as a princess.

She restarted the conversation over frivolous little things. Sweets and treats and gambits and fighting. Doing her best to try and drown out the confusion dwelling within.

When the tea had gone and the sweets ran empty he presented her with another gift. A case full of flowers. Of carnations.

How—? She’d never told anyone about her favorite flower. Even if Hubert knew he wouldn’t divulge something like this.

“Thank you, my teacher.” She enjoyed the clean smell they presented. “They’re lovely.”

Garland Moon 23, Imperial Year 1180

“You’re a knight, right?”

“Uhhh, yes.” Christophe had to look up to avoid staring at the huge chest of the boy. He was almost as big as Dedue, but with a much bigger smile.

“Sweet! How’d that happen?”

“Well, my father sent me to the Academy, and after I graduated he set me in his guard to ensure I got experience. Then I was sent all over the kingdom.”

“Hrmmm, so it’s easier becoming a knight in the Kingdom?”

“Hardly! Every day is training.” “Great!” “Or marching.” “Dang.” “And studying new tactics and strategies.” “Ouch.”

“Faerghus may have more a need for knights but it’s not an easy path.”

“So, if I become a knight, you might hire me?”

“That’s not—”

“All right! I’ll be sure to find you after I graduate.”

What an optimistic boy.

Garland Moon 24, Imperial Year 1180

“Took you long enough to come for a drink, Christophe,” Alois cheered as he walked into the bar of the lower town.

“Wanted to make sure the kids were ready for this.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ve seen’em in action. They’re tougher than you were at the age.”

Damn sad thing that was. “And they’ve got Byleth on their side.”

“Believe it or not he didn’t do much.”

“Really? No ridiculous insights like before?”

“Oh, he read the battle like it was a book but he didn’t do much killing himself. Left it all to us.”

Strange. He always threw himself into the hardest fighting.

Garland Moon 25, Imperial Year 1180

Ashe passed. Bernadetta passed. Hubert passed. 

One bullseye was all that was required in ten shots.

Everyone who tried managed it, though Linhardt and Hector needed all ten.

Edelgard was facing the same situation. All the shots had hit her target, and one was an arrowhead\s width away from the center but it wasn’t enough to pass. After every shot someone gave her advice. Hubert first, then Ashe and even Bernadetta. Her form improved with each but she still couldn’t make it.

There were no words he could offer. The advice of the practiced archers would be more valuable than his second-hand advice.

Still he gave his encouragement. She could do it.

And she did.

She didn’t cheer, even if others did. All she had was a smile and thanks for others.

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“And they all passed.”

His recoetiance to Rhea amidst a cup of tea.

“It is a good omen that your students have proven able to overcome their weaknesses.”

“It is the strength of their own efforts.”

“I am not so sure. A sword in the hands of an amatuer is nothing compared to a master. If you were not so attuned to teaching, to leading, these efforts would not have manifested.”

“That’s too much.”

“Is it? You’ve already proven your dominance in the mock battle, surely again in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Does your helper not show more promise under your tutelage than another’s?”

So much praise should only be reserved for the goddes. Even if she was within, Rhea didn’t know that.

Or did she?

“A part of me regrets that I gave you this post. So little time we share these days.”

“I could make more.”

“I appreciate that. But no, your duties must supersede my personal whims.”

Garland Moon 26, Imperial Year 1180

“I may not look like it, but I know how to cook!”

Ferdinand’s hands were like lightning in the kitchen, quickly grabbing everything Byleth requested and keeping it neat and orderly. When he had him start descaling the teutates pike however. “Ach… this is tougher than I thought.” A scale flew up and hit him in the eye. “Rats.”

After a bit of example he managed a decent pace. But there was a lot of fish to chop so Byleth sent him to utesials preparations as they switched. The pike, potatoes and broth was readied and cooked up. Served in bowls to the Black Eagles and their guests.

“This is more palatable than I expected,” Hubert said.

“Quite a better meal than what you prepared, I wager.”

“It seems you missed your chance.”

“This is sweeter than I expected,” said Edelgard.

“Yes, the professor prepared a variety of exotic spices of all sorts.”

“This is impressive, Professor,” said Ashe. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a sweet soup before.”

It was a variant on a special Rhea prepared for him before. 

Garland Moon 27, Imperial Year 1180

The lists were finally due the day before departure and the results were in confines with exceptionals for the most part. Edelgard and Hubert knew the exact intricacies of battle preparation. Every piece of obvious gear and supply with the due attention paid to winter clothing. Petra managed to grasp the winter clothing issue too. What ruined Brigid before she was keenly aware of but her food stores were also on the lower side. Likewise the high degree of Brigid hunting influcinging that. Dorothea managed to consider the winter prep as well. Over-prepared to some degree but if the funds were available that was better.

No one else considered the weather with their equipment. Linhardt had extra tents which could be used. Bernadetta had an incredible number of blankets. Caspar’s list was half-complete even after asking for help a dozen times. Ferdinand paid careful attention to weaponry, armors and horse equipment. Almost too much. They could settle for an entire campaign with the list he’d prepared.

“Pardon my frankness, but it is Garland Moon. We shall not be abroad for so long as to require winter preparations.”

“You over prepared on conventional arms yourself.”

“Yes, of course. One cannot be too prepared when it comes to matters of self-defense. Even should our allies' equipment break, I encourage plenty of spares to compensate.”

“Faerghus is cold, even in spring. Conflicts are unpredictable and spiral easily out of control. If this drags on beyond days, what then? Months even.”

“The church would surely recall us rather than have us campaign extensively.”

“I embarked for nearly a year with students before. There was no order from the church ever to return. We passed spring, autumn and winter before we finally returned.”

“That is…” Ferdinand grimaced at the idea. He ran his gloved hand through his hair. “You are the experienced commander here, so I will concede this point.”

The rest of the Eagles all accepted his points.

Garland Moon 28, Imperial Year 1180

With all preparations complete, the Black Eagles and all their hired help met with Chirstophe’s unit and the Broken Blade and Jeralt and all his troops and began their march to Castle Gaspard.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Gideon Conflict**

**Garland Moon 28, Imperial Year 1180**

The Black Eagles and accompanying forces arrived at Castle Gaspard as the sun’s light began to die out. Already they were welcomed with open arms and calls to attention from the serving staff of the modestly-sized castle.

Lonato was powerfully built, with broad shoulders a heavy chest and the conditioned arms and legs of a cavalryman. Impressive for his advanced age. His cheeks were sunken in and his brow was creased heavily with age. His hair had gone white, swept back and long; a mustache that graced his lips quite thickly. Under that was a powerful smile and generous welcome that was mirrored in his blue eyes. Whatever his advanced age it didn’t let that stop him from welcoming everyone personally and showing the highest tier guests to a dining hall for some fine dining.

It was a sparse room at a glance. There were no hanging tapestries and gilded works. No suits of armor from ancient battles. Barely enough candles to keep the room alight in the failing sun. The table was long enough to fit the entire officers’ roster, and furnished with foods but the volumes of meat, sides and drink did not dominate the entire surface.

What they lacked in volume they made up for in taste. The porks was delicately cut and seasoned with herbs that made it explode with flavor. The breads tasted of honey; the fish served as standout, practically dissolving on the tongue and enticing all the tastebuds.

Everyone gave praise to the chefs, and Lonato thanked Ashe for helping teach the chefs in the first place. The boy blushed at the sudden attention he got.

The meriment lasted until the plates were clean and bellies full. Leaving a few decanters of alcohol and juices behind with pitchers of water. As grim as it was after such enjoyment it was time for business.

“Baron Gideon has raised quite the army,” said Lonato between swigs of his drink. “Not just his own house troops but his coffers have paid for many a mercenary as well. What we face on the field of battle just won’t be his troops but sellswords of all specializations.”

“Pardon my confusion,” spoke Edelgard, “but we were led to believe the taxes were the source of this rebellion. How is Baron Gideon affording to hire extra personnel?”

Lonato nodded at the question. “Gideon may be taxed thrice as hard as any other lord but he makes five-fold our income at base. Even robbed as he is, his territory is still richer than mine own.”

There was the subtle hint of Edelgard beating back a sigh. “He’s more than well-off but still sees fit to concede to violence then.”

“Peculiar, is it not? I’ve known the man most of my life - he’s more merchant than knightly lord but he’s got a valiant heart under it all. It is why when the troubles began I sent agents to look for the truth of it myself.”

“And what did you learn?” asked Jeralt. But they already knew the answer.

“It’s not just the taxes instigating this, mind. The regent conscripts men and women across the country without remorse or care. Yet those same troops cannot be used to patrol the roads for some madcap reason. The poor choke under taxes and turn to banditry to survive. The soldiers that should stop it are instead stolen elsewhere. The roads run red with blood and less coin come in while more is demanded out.” Lonato nearly spat. “It is a vicious cycle - and Gideon is not the only one affected by it.”

“How can the regent get away with such ignoble behavior?!” Ferdinand struck out. 

“Because sedition is punishable by death. All those troops raised go about stomping on rebellion after rebellion. Yet never stop the bandits.”

“How the hell could something like this happen?” Caspar was aghast at the noble response.

Lonato took a deep sigh. “It all goes back to the Tragedy of Duscur.” The man’s eyes fell upon Jeralt. “Where His Majesty, may he rest in peace, was murdered.”

“And the Duscur were blamed,” said Edelgard. “Though Prince Dimitri and other eyewitnesses claim otherwise.”

“Men - pale as death,” stated Jeralt. “Not a man of Duscur features among any of them.”

“Yet the regent still!” Cristophe’s hands were shaking his goblet enough to spill.

“Easy, my son. Rash action is what drove Baron Gideon to this point. We don’t need you to follow in his footsteps.”

Christophe met his father’s gaze and slowly nodded. “Yes… of course… Father.”

“I think that’s been enough… rumor mongering. Let us not spoil the meal so excitedly, yes.”

Though the mood seemed spoiled for some.

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“Professor, what do you think of all this?” Edelgard caught him after their dinner arrangements had dispersed.

“What do you mean?”

“This whole situation… feels unnatural. Baron Gideon should know well enough what will happen to him and his state for instigating this. Yet he insists on rebelling.”

They were sent here because the Western Church was involved. “Either he cannot stand this anymore, or he’s being used.” Words from the classroom.

“I remember. Those do seem the most likely courses of action.”

“What do you think?”

Edelgard took a moment to think. “It may be both. One does not rise up without cause; nor be reckless without someone prodding them on.”

“Correct.”

“Not something I’d want to be correct about.” Edelgard met her familiar eyes with his. “What we’re about to do is kill people. Not bandits like Zanado. Which are so ebay to excuse. But citizens of a country, fighting for their own justice. Soldiers. Fathers. Sons. Families will be torn apart. Civilians will inevitably be caught up in the fighting as well.”

“That is the cost of fighting for your beliefs.”

“You say it so simply. Like you’ve never wavered on your path.”

“I do what needs to be done.”

“Did that include saving me in Remire?”

“Of course.”

For some reason she smiled. “You are so much like I imagined a knight would be. Yet yourself all the same.”

“What?” He had no idea what that meant.

“Nothing, my teacher. I hope you have pleasant dreams tonight.”

  
  
  
  


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Ashe controlled his breathing. Slowly drew his bow and lined up the shot. In a careful and controlled motion he pulled out the arrow, pulled back the string and fired. With a twang it sunk itself into the center of the target in the courtyard. One of dozens now embedded in the straw. All of his shots had been on point. If he kept it up tomorrow he’d be fine.

Shooting against real people.

This would be it. The minor problems the Blue Lions were tasked with the past moons didn’t involve fighting.  _ Killing _ . Tomorrow or the day after he’d be taking lives. Taking lives to save more. Doing wrong to stop a bigger wrong. Just like when he was thieving. Maybe there was another way, like Lonato taught him… but if there was Lonato already would have explored it. No. This, this had to be done.

Ashe steadied his breath and sank another arrow.

There was a scuffle around a pillar as he did so. “Hello?” he asked. He should be alone. Why would someone be hiding?

Ashe put down his bow and checked around… to nothing. Because whoever it was had moved opposite him. “Come on now.” He picked up his pace and eventually managed to catch sight of her. Where she stood still and shook in place. She was so rarely in public it took him a while to remember who she was. Even on the trip back home she kept herself scarce. “Oh, hello Bernadetta. What were you doing hiding behind this piller?” 

“Who, me, hiding? Why would I be hiding?” she rattled off rather quickly.

“Well, if you weren’t hiding what were you doing?”

“Nothing - none of your business.”

“I suppose it isn’t.”

“Y-yeah, that’s right! Just forget you ever saw me.”

“I don’t know about that but if you don’t want me to bother you I won’t. I’ll just go back to my bow practice then.” Ashe turned to walk off.

Only for Bernadetta to cut him off. “W-wait.”

“Do you need something?” The girl was acting pretty random. Was she feeling alright? Maybe he should get a doctor.

“How did you manage to hit your target every time.”

“Well, I took my time, controlled my breathing and made sure I drew appropriately to the range.”

“That’s what I do too but then I keep missing. I don’t want to miss. If I miss and someone gets close then it’s all over for Bernie!”

Melee was an archer’s weakness after all. “Are you proficient with other weapons? I’m quite handy with an ax to cover if anyone gets inside my bow range.”

“I don’t want them to get close at all!”

It was really odd she was coming to him for this. Wouldn’t her own house help her better. Still, he wasn’t gonna turn down someone in need. “If you show me how you shoot I could give you the pointers I know. Though I doubt a noble as yourself would need them.”

“Who cares if it’s noble or not as long as it keeps me from being hurt.”

“Let’s begin then.”

But every so often an arrow went completely off target. And it was really easy to see why. “You’re closing your eyes when you shoot.”

“Yeah! I don’t want to see someone get shot!”

“That doesn’t strike you as contradictory?”

“You’re gonna need to choose: keep your eyes open and stop missing or close them and let someone get in.”

“Or -- or I get someone else to stay in front so I don’t have to do either.”

“Protecting someone in trouble  _ is _ what a knight is supposed to do. Probably not quite like this though.” He’d just have to rise to the occasion. 

Ashe finished his early night training and headed back into the castle. He’d spend as much time with his siblings as he could.

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“Hail, Alois, have you by chance seen Bernadetta around?” asked Ferdinand.

“Can’t say that I have, Ferdinand.” The vetern knight was checking over the pack animals kept nice and warm in the castle stables. “Is she not in her room?”

“I was taking in the intricacies of the castle when my path brought me to our lodgings. There I saw the door to her room ajar. I know she prefers the night to day, but to do so in an unfamiliar locale has me worried.”

Alois set aside the riding harness he was hefting and strode closer. “That is a problem then, have you told the professor then?”

“I have not. If this turns out to be something trivial, such an uproar over the idea of her missing could cause her to recede even further into her isolation.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Alois turned back to some of the followers. “All right boys, I’ll be going with Ferdinand here to seek out an absent student. If you see her find us.”

“Please, no shouting. Do not try and frighten the poor dear. She is quite... excitable.”

The others sounded off and Alois joined Ferdinand on a tour along the castle’s permissises. Spreading the news to each sentinel they could and keeping things as quiet and contained as they rightly should.

Sometimes it tended to be hard. As Alois did not seem much for keeping things quiet. When Ferdinand approached him about it he boasted “This is my inside voice!”.

“You know Ferdinand,” said Alois, “this kind of work isn’t something I see students doing all that often.”

“Concern for my classmate is only right.”

“You’d be surprised how often I’ve seen the opposite.”

“It seems there is some story behind such a thing.”

“Aye. A few months ago there was a kidnapping and—” Alois slowed down at his surprising information. “Forget you ever heard that.”

“How could I?” Ferdinand had to affix a look of disgust. “You imply a student from a prior year is missing and their classmates cared nothing? That would be deplorable. Not noble at all.”

“Not noble is right.” Alois swept his hand through his hair. “They all gave up within a week.”

“They are a disgrace to all nobility.”

Alois gave a boisterous laugh. “Not what I expected a noble to say.”

“To be noble is not just a state of birth. It is a way of living. Whether an aristocrat or baker’s scion proper conduct cares nothing for class lines. Even if we nobles must excel it is to set an example and lead. Those who abandon such a calling cannot be called true nobility.”

“I think I like your definition of true nobility. Almost makes me wish I was as true noble as my blood.”

“You are nobility, Alois?”

“Kingdom born and bred! Though that was thirty some odd years ago. Parents were wiped out in some infernal plague.”

“My condolences. Is such an event how you came to be involved with the Church of Seiros.”

“Aye, the captain picked me up one day and I’ve been following him ever since through thick and thin. Whatever title I once had is long collapsed. Quite… ignoble, eh?”

“Errr, right. But regardless certainly such loyalty is noble in and of itself.”

Their patrol had brought them back to the quarters loaned to them by Lord Lonato. And Bernadetta came running down the hall and shut herself in her room right away.

“Well, that’s anti-climatic,” said Alois.

“I am happy she’s unharmed.”

“Aye, definitely.”

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Jeralt stood up on the battlements of the castle. Looking north over the darkness. The castle town with its torches and lambs still glowed orange in the east but the north was pitch-black plains on a cloudy night. If there was an attack the enemy could sneak up without anyone noticing. The few scattered guards up here, or in the towers would be blinded by their torches. Maybe he’d convince Byleth to get a few of the students to set up proper night watch.

Or maybe his paranoia was starting to consume him more and more. They were safe from harm. There were plenty of knights - Seiros and Kingdom - here.

But sending students to put down a rebellion that had almost nothing to do with the church… Maybe he was taking it as a warning to not run away.

What a sad sack the Blade Breaker had turned into.

“Ah, Sir Jeralt.” Lord Lonato announced himself on arrival. “The view here is much better in the sunlight.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Just thinking how the battle’s gonna go. And drop the ‘sir’. You look far older than I do, it’s weird.”

“Very well.” The man took it with good cheer. “Thinking of the battle that won’t occur anywhere near my territory.”

“I’ve long since learned to never take anything as impossible.”

“Too true. My guards can run double duty shifts until we depart on the 30th.” Lonato locked those cold blue eyes directly against Jeralt’s own. “You’ve been informed of my suspicions, correct?”

“That the Western Church is somehow involved in this?”

“Aye. Shortly after Duscur they approached my son in a conspiracy to kill Lady Rhea.”

“I know, Christophe already told me.”

“He—” Lonato nearly fell off the ramparts. “He’s too good-hearted for this world.”

“I’d prefer the world have more like Christophe.”

“So would I.” Lonato sighed. “Every day I give thanks to the goddess for his insight in turning down such a heretical offer.”

“I won’t tell Lady Rhea, don’t worry. Neither will my son, considering their history too.”

“Mine always was talking about how courageous yours was.” lonato smiled. “I was furious -- flabbergasted -- worried. Every emotion known to man when he returned from the war. I didn’t talk to him for a week after such a reckless act. Then I made sure to hug him every day for a month.” Lonato chuckled. “I don’t think he ever forgave me for that.”

Emotions running free were a good thing, sometimes.

“It’s why I worry about him, and the future of Faerghus. King Lambert was a man with a good heart too, and yet it cost him his life.”

Dammit, it made all kinds of sense. “The church has tried for years to hunt down the pale men. There’s been nothing.”

Lonato slowly nodded and rested his hands on the stone walls. “If the Empire was behind this then they simply would have invaded after. That means…”

It was someone inside the Kingdom. But the number of people who could do something like that was too small to not be treason.

Lonato sighed. “Rufus is not the man I served in my youth.” He looked forlorn into the north. Towards Fhirdiad. Towards the regent. “Duscur hardened him in a way I never expected. He was never a man given to kindness… but the stark brutality he now condones would have shook the young him to fainting.” Lonato gripped his hands tightly. “Some days I wonder if it’s the regent’s goal to cause all this chaos intentionally.”

That didn’t make a damn lick of sense no matter how Jeralt looked at it. “Well as long as good men like you stick around for Prince Dimitri things should pick up.”

“That’s a hope a lot of us share. Now.” Lonato pulled out a bottle of wine. “I’ve heard you're quite the active drinker, Jeralt.”

“I had plenty at dinner.”

“Faerghus 1076.”

A damn good vintage. “I shouldn't be drinking on duty anyway.” Not after what he said to Patricia. “But hell, we’ve got a few days.” Even after his concerns about being attacked.

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Christophe was following the halls around. Trying to work out some of the nervous energy shaking his legs. The same before every rebellion. It’d be a lot easier if Cassandra was here. The door to his father’s study was abroad, a shadow moving under the flickers of candlelight. Christophe entered, spotted the green-haired young man. “Linhardt, yes?”

“Yes, that is my name.”

“What are you doing?”

“I thought it would be obvious I was reading. But I’m reading.”

“My father always was free with inviting others to his study.” A dozen packed bookcases, reading tables and chairs all brightened by the candles and fireplace. A few pitchers of brandy still locked in their cabinet. 

“Some of these books are written from the perspective of the Western Church. They’re much different from the tenants in Garreg Mach.”

“How so?”

“They’re even more violent, if you can believe it. They call for reprisal against violence even harsher than the archbishop. They espouse the Four Saints as almost equal to Saint Seiros herself. Small wonder there’s been more and more talk of them splitting off.”

Christophe had to blink a few times at the sudden reformation of information. “That’s… impressive.”

“It seems rather obvious if one looks at it. Still, the tenants of Central won’t allow something like that. It’ll likely come to blows if something does happen.”

A war. Senseless killing by people who should be respecting one another. Just like they’d be doing in a few days. Precisely why he kept it hidden all these years. He still had friends in the Western Church. If any of them died...

“It seems I bored you. Good.”

“No, it’s all quite fascinating.”

“I don’t find the idea of war so fascinating.”

“I… neither do I personally.”

“But aren’t you a career soldier?”

“Someone has to be the shield of the people.”

“Aren’t we going to be killing the shield of the people in a few days?” The boy’s complexion just paled at the mention. “Ugh, maybe I can ask the professor if I can adjourn for the battle instead.”

“You’ll get used to it.” He did. After all.

“It’s not something I want to get used to. The blood. The killing. It’s so needless and barbaric.”

Yes. Yes it was. “Sometimes there are things that can’t be conceded. Even with the threat of death.”

“I’d heartily disagree.” He sighed. “But then again my hands have already killed. So any words I say would just be hollow.”

“No. Only those who have balanced the weight of a life can truly understand its heaviness.”

“I’m not one for heavy burdens.”

Christophe gave a biting laugh. “Byleth will have you strong as an ox before you go back home to Adrestia.”

“That sounds like a lot of work I have no interest in doing.”

“I hope you don’t have to, kid.” Yeah. The less children exposed to the ugliness of battle the better.

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It was his job to be paranoid so Hubert was spending all evening ruminating over every single possibility regarding Gideon’s rebellion that he had come up with over the past month. None of the conclusions were promising and all were disastrous.

This whole situation had the wretched stink of Thales’s shadowed hand in it. The idiocy of the rebellion only made sense if more support was arranged in advance. In regards to positioning that meant either Gaspard or the Western Church. Considering where the Eagles were sequestered the latter option had lower chances whilst the former had only risen. 

If the worm had pressured the snake and used the regent’s reputation as a believer to slip men inside the Western Church they could have operated efficiently in the dark. A few letters here, a few promises there and suddenly rising up against Faerghus’s boot was looking more promising. Destabilize the Kingdom even further for the coming war.

Or that was how they’d present it to Lady Edelgard. But neither was so shallow as to take their information and intentions at face. Everything was hidden by masks and veiled threats. It would be a delight to crush their ambitions when they no longer held their hostages. When every nest they’d made throughout Fódlan was marked for destruction.

“Oh, Hubie, what are you doing here glowering in the dark?” the cheerful tone of Dorothea broke his silence.

“I am simply thinking over what your enemy intends.”

“Does it really matter why some noble is rebelling when all it does is get people killed?”

He chuckled. “But of course. To understand what drives a man forward means to know what to exploit for your benefit. Words you should take to heart.”

“I know plenty what men want, thanks.” Her tone took flat with disgust at Adrestian nobility. “But I wonder if you know what our dear professor wants.”

The man was a damn enigma. The Knights of Seiros, the clergy and support staff: none of them could offer anything useful about him. He’d lived in Garreg Mach his entire life and not one of them ever spoke of his personality or aspirations. No vice to cripple him with. He was a mindless tool of the church. That made him dangerous. But predictable in the right circumstances. “I am not concerned with the professor.”

“Even should Edie have her eye on him?”

Hubert grunted at the insinuation. “Lady Edelgard’s future is not something that can be restrained by someone like him.” One day they would come to blows and she would end him. Small bits of favor or no. “Are you attempting to rile me, Dorothea?”

“Talking about Edie is the only thing that does get you ‘riled’, doesn’t it?”

“Would you prefer we turn this conversation around on yourself? Why exactly did you seek me out? This corner is quite secluded.”

She giggled. “You looked like you needed someone to cheer you up.”

“I always look like that.”

“Yes. Yes you do.” She smiled regardless.

It was not the worst way to spend time. Even if it was not ideal.

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“Ah, heya Petra.”

“Hello, Caspar. Have you be needing me?”

“No, just wanted to say ‘hi.’”

“Then you have said it.” She was wrapped super tight in thick shirts and boots and coats. And she was still shivering.

“Are you gonna be able to fight with all that clothing on?”

“Fódlan is cold. Even the Empire is more cold than not.”

“Huh, really?”

“Brigid is much hotter. You would not be wanting to wear even your vest in Brigid.”

“Uh, wow.” Good thing the Empire didn’t need to invade.

“Faerghus is cold. How did anyone choose to live here?”

“I dunno.” Father said something about them being ungrateful but that was like, 300 years ago.

“Perhaps I should be learning such a thing in the future.”

“Good luck.”

“I will make luck good myself!”

  
  


**Garland Moon 29, Imperial Year 1180**

The whole day was spent getting the rest of the battle plan down and confirmed. Making sure every commander they had knew exactly the strategy at play. Jeralt and his Knights of Seiros would move out later in the day alongside Christophe and most of Gaspard’s troops. They’d advance in concert with the larger operational forces sent by the surrounding Kingdom forces. Faster even, at Lonato’s suggestion. Gideon’s band of sellswords and loyal men still wouldn’t be a match for the knights. Once the situation was under control they’d send word to the Black Eagles and Lonato to advance the remainder of their forces.

Byleth made sure the Black Eagles were as ready as they would be. They’d passed their certification exams with excellent scores. Edelgard, Caspar and Bernadetta donned flexible leathers and hoisted new iron weapons. Hubert, Dorothea and Linhardt were readied with new monk robes and expanded magical prowess. Ferdinand took but some staunch metal chestpiece and some arm guards. Petra now favored reinforced padded linens with some joint protection in metal. The rest of the Eagles some mishmash of the above as well.

Jeralt, Christophe and the hundreds they’d lead were readied up shortly after noon.

“Wish I could have stuck together, kid,” Jeralt said to him. “You aren’t gonna get much done coming up behind and I was looking forward to seeing how you led.”

“Better than you.” Huh. Where did that come from?

“Was that a joke? Better than Alois even if it wasn’t.”

Jeralt chuckled. “Maybe teaching the brats has rubbed off on you. Now I’d really sad we aren’t gonna work together. Stay safe, kid.”

“You too, Father.”

Jeralt took it with a solemn nod. “Knights of Seiros, move out!”

Jeralt and his caravan of troops began their dust-trailed journey north. Byleth watched them leave until the last cart was out of sight and even the dust clouds had settled down.

  
  


**Garland Moon 30, Imperial Year 1180**

  
  


The midnight black path was illuminated only by a handful of dim torches. The less traveled ground spotted with bits of grass between rocks and dirt.

Baron Balor Cian Gideon rode at the head of his refugee column. His personal guard of horse archers followed closely. Not letting their own exhaustion on forced march through two days damper their spirits.

They were the only ones.

The rest of his personal troops tried their best but they could not hold back all their scorn. The mercenaries were worse. Only the promise of increased payment kept them from turning on the convoy. And the civilians - his people. The tears of children only kept quiet by impoverished mothers. Hungry stomachs rumbled as much as horse hooves. If they did not get Lonato’s supplies they’d never be able to make it across the border to Imperial territory.

And the supplies weren’t there.

“This is the arranged meeting point, what are Lonato’s men doing?” Flickering orange glows revealed shadowed guardsmen running atop the wall. And after, the ringing of a bell. Rousing the garrison to waking! “This was not the plan.”

“M-my lord what’s going on!”

“I don’t know.” The convoy was supposed to rendezvous with Lonato’s men and slip south towards the Imperial border with none being the wiser. He’d followed through on his part of the deal to the letter. Why had Lonato changed?

Because he’d never intended to follow through in the first place! It was all some trick to leave his forces tired and hungry while the man could pick them apart with ease!

Damn him! Damn him!

“Lord Lonato has betrayed us! Bring up everyone who can fight and get them ready! We’ll set the castle town aflame and break south using the fire as a distraction!”

“My lord that’s—!”

“It’s our lives or theirs! Get the convoy moving regardless we’ll hold them off!”

Baron Gideon readied his old trusted bow and kicked his horse forward.

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The ringing of the bell spurred Byleth to action. Armor donned and two swords of iron at his side he dashed from his room. No plumes of smoke or gouts of fire assailed his eyes from the castle town. This was not a bandit raid. This was a professional attack. Baron Gideon had outmaneuvered them and struck south.

Byleth ran the halls he’d memorized quickly and gathered together the Black Eagles and their guests. He assembled them in the courtyard. Alois and the Broken Blades readied. Lonato was gathering his own guard whilst others ran up the walls. In the dark they’d be targets.

“Who’s attacking?” Caspar asked the question.

Confusion, but not fear, was the common emotion on the Eagles. “Our enemy is most likely Baron Gideon,” said Byleth. “Remember what I taught you. Don’t overextend and listen to my orders. This battle I will participate more freely than Zando. Edelgard, you have Alois and the Broken Blade again.” Byleth gave the rest of them their command orders in the tents resting outside. With veteren sergeants they’d be assembled and ready.

“Gideon’s advance party is trying to slip around into the castle town,” Lonato announced. “All forces rendezvous with the militia and don’t let him intrude on our land!”

“Ashe, keep watch around the town perimeter with an archer battalion. Support Lonato’s defense.”

“Y-you got it, Professor.” His hands were shaking. He was pale even in the moonlight.

“Misty and Brocke are safe within the castle,” said Lonato. “Keep your arm steady and heart true and we’ll get through this.”

“Right. Right.” He repeated to himself.

“How will you arrange your forces, Professor?”

The darkness would impair their vision. A use of Divine Pulse to review the lay of the land would provide less benefit than keeping it in reserve. The timing of the attack, the speed, the situation to the north.

“We’ll advance on the enemies’ vanguard and beat them in battle.”

“There’s no need to strike when we can defend easily.”

“The enemy forces have slipped the encirclement because they’ve moved fast at night with minimal baggage. Their forces are exhausted from the march and can’t match us in direct combat. This attack wasn’t planned, something’s forcing them to act. Hunger, most likely. Since they can’t resupply they’ll attempt to sow confusion by striking at the town itself and avoid further combat. If we move a unit forward that will divide their forces and throw them into chaos instead. If they attempt to avoid us we’ll fall on their flank; if they engage they’ll have to break off smaller units to strike the town which you can defeat much easier.”

The acumen caught Lonato off guard. “If they leverage theri full force on you instead?”

“They won’t be able to fight with precision in this darkness. They can’t leverage their full force so easily and overwhelm us because they won’t realize it’s only the church forces.”

“Christophe wasn’t wrong about you.” Lonato turned to his men. “You heard the man! All Gaspard troops get to protecting the town and castle.” Without further discouragement the troops on the ground rallied off with Ashe along.

“My teacher…” said Edelgard. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Huh?”

Hubert answered, “Even if Lord Lonato is a mere feudal lord and a devout adherent to the Church of Seiros, your authority in overruling him is quite impressive.”

The way Hubert narrowed his eyes brought to mind two more words the student had refused to say.  _ And dangerous _ .

But that could wait until later.

“Edelgard, Alois you have the front with the Broken Blade. Caspar, you’ll have the left flank; Ferdinand the right. Hubert, Dorothea and Linhardt will secure the center. Bernadetta behind. Petra and I will intercede as reinforcements if either flank is pressed too hard.”

“That will leave our front dangerously thin,” spoke Hubert.

“They can handle it.”

“Naturally.” It was not quite a smile that accompanied those words.

“I don’t want to fight in the dark,” screeched Bernadetta. “I won’t be able to see anything! I might shoot someone!”

“By keeping our formation dense your archers can arc fire without concern for hitting our own forces.” The girl seemed slightly mollified by the answer.

“I can’t wait to get in there and tear them up!” Caspar shouted.

“Maintain formation at all times until I give orders otherwise. If you get stricken outside our range we may never be able to recover you or the flow of battle.”

“Uh, right, ugh, that makes sense.”

“I will hold the right without equal! It shall be a shining bastion of defense that not even Edelgard can match,” Ferdinand boasted.

“Keep vigilant. Your flank will be hardest pressed.”

“Let them come and break on my lance!”

“We shall be seizing the victory!”

Byleth switch to his limited Brigid, “Commands may be this.”

“I understand,” she said back in Fódlan.

“You’re all way too fired up for this,” said Dorothea.

“I agree. There are better things to be happy about. Like sleeping.” Linhardt yawned. “Hmmm, normally I only yawn during the day.”

“If the enemy breaks into the center I need you two to remain in place. Petra’s unit and I will deal with any enemies that threaten you.”

Dorothea giggled. “Make sure to keep that promise, Professor.” 

“We will cut down all the enemies!” Petra clenched her fist in determination.

“Get to your commands.”

The Black Eagles broke their formation. All save Edelgard with Alois by her side. He said, “Much as the Blade can handle it don’t you think this is a bit too… errr, risky?” He seemed a shade paler in the light.

“The enemy can’t use an effective cavalry charge and their horse archers can’t abuse their mobility on unfamiliar terrain. Keeping a strong formation with flexible reserves is our best option.”

“Maybe if we had a better gauge of the enemies’ numbers…”

“The force is minimal. If possible, one of many using the cover to come south. A larger force would have been tracked by my father.”

“You’re even better at the war stuff than I remembered. All right, we’ll show’em how the Blade fights. We’ll do old Jeralt proud.” Jeralt followed his boast with a laugh.

Byleth gave the nod to Edelgard, who ordered, “Broken Blade, move out!” With more acceptance than the Red Canyon the Broken Blade fell in behind Edelgard’s orders. The mixed forced rendezvoused with the other Black Eagle troops and led the way forward.

_ I must remind you, _ Sothis’s voice intruded,  _ you have but three uses of the Divine Pulse. This battle may require all of them. _

This was not a battle that would be won without fatalities. He would accept that going in. There would be sacrifices and they would be necessary.

  
  


Battle was already rising even before they stepped through the northern reaches of the area. No plumes of fire had stricken the township just yet but already were Lonato’s troops pressed on the ground outside their wall and gate. It was not a fortress town designed to wage war against its allies in the north. The wall was lower, thinner and already raining dead men from the parapets. The torchlight made them obvious targets.

To the ground the two forces clashed with Lonato gathering the upper hand. His heavy infantry were able to stand their ground against the horsemen assailing them but they numbered too few to maintain their position for long.

“Edelgard, Caspar: Advance and sweep them from Lonato.”

The two units moved forward and fell on the horsemen’s flanks. Some of them had been expecting the attack and gave a good fight of it but the fresh arms overpowered them quickly. Lonato’s men rallied and threw back the rest who jotted off into the darkness.

“Into formation.” The church forces rallied into the ordered formation. “Advance.” Into the darkness. Plops of orange giving vision to the occasional foe. A torch left smoldering on the ground between the dead. Slow and steady they advanced. Arrows firing in the darkness in every way.

With a thunderous crash another wave of horses ran into Edelgard at the front. But the Broken Blade did not break. Against those axes they advanced and cut their foe down without hesitation. Without hesitation the horse kept coming.

“Bernadetta, fire.”

“Shoot, shoot!” She arched her bow well up and her and her troops fired without sight. The arrows fell into the infantry advancing behind the horses. The calvary did not disengage for a reason. Arrow-spotted soldiers filled in the holes by the dying horses. Falling to the same axes that felled their vanguard, yet bleeding the Blade all the same.

Byleth focused his ears, seaking the hoofbeats in the darkness. “Ferdinand, prepare.” His unit braced spears but a moment before another cavalry charge smashed into their death. The second wave cut their reckless charge short and began swinging in swords. The height compensating for the reach of the lance and they began a bloody brawl with Ferdinand’s flank.

“Dorothea, lay some thunder down.” The bolts of lightning fell on her command and earned space for Ferdinand’s troops to advance forward and force a retreat. Edelgard was still engaged with infantry and breaking formation to pursue was too dangerous. If they circled around to the rear… “Hubert, miasma barrage to our southeast, cut them off entirely.”

Hubert chuckled into the night as he sent orbs of darkness deeper than the night into the blackness around them. Ravenous screams of pain accompanying it and the desperate retreat of horses with shouts.

Night vision was starting to come into play. The moonlight was shining even brighter now.

Flickers of the enemy massing in the beyond. Arrows of their own assailing the formation as they spread out in all directions. “Linhardt, relieve the front. Bernadetta, Dorothea cover the left flank; Hubert the right.” The commanders jumped to their orders. The white-light flicker of healing magic redoubling Edelgard’s onslaught in front while the ranged support whittled down the troops trying to flank. It was not enough and soon all the outer lines were engaged. Caspar’s booming voice breaking out over everything else as he began to tear in with his ax. Ferdinand, already hurt from earlier, slowly fell back from the axes assaulting his position.

“Petra, aid Ferdinand.” With a charge in Brigid she and her skirmishes ran forth and struck in. The fleeting Ferdianand refocused his attacks and stuck it out even over the bleeding arms he’d incurred. Caspar was trying to push forward but even with help was being overwhelmed. Edelgard’s line held but more and more were on the ground rather than on the line and she was slowly stepping back.

But this was their enemy’s last push as well. If these were men at peak stamina the advance would have been overrun already. His insight was true, they’d ridden hard and fast in the night and exhausted themselves. Attacking the town was a distraction to escape. One they’d failed at, as a simple look back showed the town gates clear of fighting. The archers no longer worried for their own lives and shot into the darkness without fear. One keen strike and the enemy would buckle.

Byleth drew his sword and ran into battle. He fell upon the western flank and cleaved his way through the infantry assailing Caspar. With a handful of slashes he’d broken into their center and disrupted their formation. Two more strikes and the enemy’s leadership was on the ground. Those remaining fled into the night.

He continued on, ripping into the frontal forces locked in pitched battle with Edelgard. He swerved around their axes, cut their sides and legs. Tricked them into hitting one another as he weaved through their lines until their attention had focused on him… and the Broken Blade roared with fury and plowed through.

He returned south and fell upon the backs of the unit engaged with Ferdinand and Petra. They never even realized he was attacking until he cut his way back to friendly lines.

The survivors of the enemy fled into the darkness. A few surrendered. The Broken Blade had maybe a third of their number on the ground though most still moved. Ferdinand’s unit had fallen down to maybe a third its strength and the other front line soldiers were at half. Most of the interior had only taken a few scratches. 

Acceptable losses. 

He could do better.

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He didn’t know how but the enemy had completely outfoxed him. Knights of Seiros. Knights of Seiros! Lonato had called Knights of Seiros into his trap! Whoever was leading their vanguard had read his strategy completely and completely devastated his charges, his flanks. Like he’d known the battle plan ahead of time.

Gideon rallied what he could of his house troops back to the convoy. “South! South as fast as you can fly! Everyone who can grab a weapon fight the Knights of Seiros take no prisoners!”

He plucked at the bowstring. Fired at the unyielding advance of the knights. “Cursed traitors!” he yelped as they enclosed around him. “Merciless Goddess!” A lance pierced his thigh as he swung francticly. “What did we do to deserve this?!” His stirrups were cut and he was pulled from the saddle. A crack in his body at some point. He couldn’t move. His vision blurred. He mouthed last words… but blood bubbled and none escaped. He kept himself aware as the ax came upon him. Too slow. Too slow. Too—

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It was over.

Byleth surveyed the losses. Maybe a fifth this time around taken from each detachment. Three uses of the Divine Pulse could not overturn their fates.

The enemy had fought to bitter ends. First the soldiers. Then civilians. Grasping weapons for the first time in their life. Shaky and unsteady as they were cut down. Their pathetic swings battered aside easily yet they clung futility to their last grasp of hope. So few surrendered. Too few. 

Tears of the defeated stained the dark earth as much as blood. If he had saved the Divine Pulse for them instead of his men… No. This was the path. This was the sacrifice he chose. There was no purpose to discord. Dissent could not be tolerated. Not anymore.

That did not stop others.

“Dammit…” Caspar moaned at the piles of dead. “They were… attacking.. Why are there…”

“It wasn’t a real attack…” Edelgard pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was a distraction.”

“Burn the town and let this little convoy of his pass through without incident. How pragmatic.” Approval crept into Hubert’s voice.

“That man was no noble, no noble at all.” The unharmed Ferdinand grimaced at the sight before them.

Linhardt stood away, trembling. Using what remained of his magical reserves to tend the injured.

“I wanna go hoooooooome.” Bernadetta sobbed herself.

“Why… why did they keep fighting…” Dorothea aghast at everything.

“When there are things you cannot be conceding, you cannot be stopping the fight,” said Petra.

Lonato and his men rode up. Quickly he was informed of the situation. “By the goddess…” he whimpered. “Get these people food, shelter immediately! Get every herbalist physician and doctor in town here now!” He left his addle, pulling some mixture of herbs from a pouch but the wounded he went to tend slapped away his aide. Shouted vile things and condemned him as a traitor.

Something was even more amiss than they expected.

The night dragged on seemingly forever as the prisoners and their few remaining possessions were rounded up and put into custody. The sun finally cresting the sky with dawn by the time things had settled. Corpse detail was sent out. Baron Gideon’s body was found, struck down by lances and axs. His hand still clutching a bloodied lance. A handful of documents were pulled from his personage and Lonato took them to investigate personally.

Byleth gave the Black Eagles leave to rest. They needed it.

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“The contents of these letters is beyond disturbing.” Lonato had brought Byleth into the man’s well-lit study shortly after noon. “And explains in plain language what motivated Gideon’s actions last night.” Lonato handed him a carefully sealed envelope with had its seal broken.

Within was a letter detailing the scenario presented. Gideon would make a forced march south under the cover of night with only minimal provisions and equipment. He would rendezvous with Lonato’s men, receive supplies and be on his way south to the Empire. The plan was proposed and signed: Lord Lonato Gildas Gaspard.

“Is this your handwriting?”

“To every one of my foibles and my personal seal itself.” Lonato showed the stamp that matched the wax on the envelope.

“You’ve given us liberty of your estate, the latter isn’t surprising.”

“As is someone copying my letters. Whoever wrote this damned forgery is sharper than a silver sword and twice as deadly.”

“What purpose would this serve?”

“I haven’t the faintest, but that’s not even the worst news.” Lonato revealed another message. One in code, which had been translated. It was enough to even get his eyebrows raised. 

A plan to assassinate Rhea during the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth.

“That’s unfeasible.”

“Aye, but whoever our enemy is wanted that message to be found.”

“It’s a distraction.”

“Just like Gideon tried. Whoever’s behind this has another objective. Damned if I know what it could be.”

There were a number of valuable objects stored at the monastery. But this message would only heighten security. Were they overlooking something? “There are only two factions that could be behind this.”

“The Western Church or the Empire.”

“Considering the Black Eagles’ involvement in stopping this…”

“That leaves the west. As I suspected already to the archbishop.”

A purge would be forthcoming once they had more information. “I’ll deliver this information posthaste.”

“I’ve already sent a messenger north to Jeralt and Christophe.” Lonato leaned back in his chair, a sigh accompanying it. “Would you find it strange if I say I understand why Baron Gideon did what he did?” Byleth nodded. “If he’d continued the current course of action his people would have been bled dry by another means. If he rose up there was perhaps some chance he could garner change. Make a difference.” Lonato shook his head. “I almost wish I was with him.”

“Those words could get you killed.”

“So they could. So they could. But a lord must do what is best for his people. Even if others don’t see that.

“I don’t see how dying meaninglessly is what’s best for them.”

“Do you know about the Kingdom’s central army?” He gave another shake of his head. “Two years ago or so, Regent Rufus assembled a new fighting force that answered directly to him. An expansion of his powers as a lord and as regent. That’s the central army.” Lonato sneered at the mention. “Bandits in uniform. They’ve no code of ethics or chivalry. They’ll slit your throat as fast as any highwaymen. And these thugs are under the command of Miklan Gautier.” Gautier. Sylvain’s family. “The regent’s taxes drive people to banditry or raise lords to rebellion and the central army is sent to put them down. Put the fear of Faerghus into them. They slaughter wholesale anyone who gets in their way. Surrender or no.”

“The regent allows that?” Heresy was not permitted but other prisoners could be taken. Were taken. 

“All it does is spur people to fight harder, rise up fiercer each time.” Lonato sighed. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was sowing this chaos on purpose.”

“Is it possible this is an attempt to prevent Dimitri from ascending the throne?”

“By making himself the most hated man in Faerghus? He’d only speed the process along if anything. Two years until the archbishop can crown him king yet the people cry out for him daily.”

Why was he at the Officers Academy instead of here, then? 

“Forgive my gripes. I should not be confessing this so carelessly to you.” Lonato shook his head. “Because you were here those people got to surrender under my care and the church’s authority. Despite everything Rufus still allows some respect. The people we took captive may hate us but at least their lives endure.”

“And if they turn violent?”

“They will. But a few frightened people are simple to take down without danger.”

“Then we’ll leave them in your care.”

“Thank you, Byleth.”

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Byleth was overseeing the preparations to depart back to Garreg Mach when Edelgard approached him. “Everyone is shaken after fighting against those civilians. Even Alois and the other knights weren’t unaffected.”

“That is the cost of warring.” That is what they came to learn.

“If only everyone could face reality so unflinchingly.” Edelgard turned her purple-eyed gaze over the prisoners still secured in the courtyard. “I too, will one day be just like Baron Gideon. Spending the lives of my people for the greater good.”

“Even after seeing all this?”

“Yes. No matter who the enemy should be.”

“Even the goddess?”

_ Do not drag me into this. _

His words nearly knocked her over. She settled, just barely, but her eyes were raised. Then secured. Ready. Eager. “Against anyone. Even should they be gods themselves.”

Even him.

Good.

“That is the resolve needed to command.” To condemn men to their deaths for the sake of others. “But don’t rush to condone casualties so readily.”

“Yes. We do what we must to ensure our goal with the least damage taken.”

Just as he had. Just as he would continue to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life sucks. Don't expect weekly chapters for a long, long time. This was the last chapter that was done before my life fell apart.
> 
> Will update more eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: The Conflict Below**

  
  


**Blue Sea Moon 1, Imperial Year 1180**

The first day of the Blue Sea Moon was Caspar’s birthday, but the trip back to Garreg Mach and everyone’s conflicted gazes stymied any desire for festivities.

Byleth sent him flowers anyway once he dismissed the Eagles for rest and recovery.

He handed over Lonato’s investigation notes and let Rhea and Seteth discern them for themselves. And he was dismissed.

Sleep came easy still.

**Blue Sea Moon 2, Imperial Year 1180**

Inside the audience chamber, Rhea, Seteth and a grim Jeralt were all communicating.

“This ploy seems unreasonable at best,” said Seteth. “But we cannot dismiss the idea outright either. If our enemy has objectives aside from this plot we must root them out entirely.”

“That’s gonna be difficult with so many people in town for the Rite of Rebirth,” said Jeralt. “Too many things are not on our side as it is. We’re gonna have to reinforce security on the Goddess Tower for the day but that’ll leave other areas understrength.”

“Such as?” asked Byleth.

“Everywhere, basically. Only the front gates will maintain their normal readiness. The treasure vaults, the faculties, the Holy Mausoleum, everywhere’s gonna be thinned out.”

The Mausoleum? Where Seiros and the Four Saints were entombed. Not someplace of interest. Even if it would be open during the Rite of Rebirth.

In fact, it was carefully guarded at any other time. Always kept secure from public hand so none did not defile the tombs within.

Where Seiros dwelled. Where she should dwell.

“Could they be after the Holy Mausoleum?”

“Why?” said Jeralt, confused even after thinking it over. “I get it might seem like a target but there’s nothing there but old bones.”

“Sacrilege is enough for unbelievers.” Rhea’s words were as cold as winter. “If the western bishop defiles the bones of the Saints they could impede the authority of the Central Church. If this heinous act comes to pass I command the Black Eagles to eradicate this threat.”

Them? “This is a job for the knights.”

“If we deviate from expectations their attempt will be called off. Using the students is the most logical course of action to catch these fiends in the act.”

“Lady Rhea I agree with the professor on this point. The sanctity of the Mausoleum is too valuable to risk even to catch these unbelievers.”

“I have utmost faith in our dear professor. In his leadership and his success. Those who desecrate the holy premise shall be dealt with.”

Seteth looked ready to fight. “As you wish, Lady Rhea.” But conceded with a hard gasp. “Inform your students and keep the matter as a whole quiet. We cannot risk tipping our hand in this matter.”

“I understand.”

“You are dismissed.”

Father and Son left the audience chamber and Father was quick to strike up a conversation.

“You’ve been a lot more… social, lately,” Jeralt said.

“Have I?”

“Yeah. Maybe you haven’t noticed it. But you’re talking, engaging, going out of your way for people. You’re not smiling but you’re definitely feeling more than you have in the past.”

It did seem true. All before he’d just followed after Jeralt or whoever else’s command. Occasionally he’d correct something. But inviting others out to tea had never been him. Or fishing without provocation. Gardening or dancing. All things he did because he was told to.

Maybe… maybe this was another thing caused by Sothis waking. Or...

“The students are to thank.” They were so different from everyone else. More like Cassandra and Christophe and Glenn than the hundreds that had passed the halls before with fear in their eyes.

“Honestly, I’ve always been worried that living here in the monastery was somehow responsible for everything… different about you. Always wondered if maybe it would have been better to be out on the road. But something about the way you’ve reacted to these brats has changed you.”

“For the better?”

“You’re the one who said it, not me.” Jeralt cracked a smile. “It’s good to see, no matter what the source. You almost look happy.”

Was this what happy was?

* * *

The assembled Black Eagles reeled from the new information. “An assisnation attempt on the archbishop and desecrating a holy sanctuary,” said Edelgard. “It’s curious that the archbishop would concede this mission to us.”

Turning this into a trap made sense to catch them in the act. But was it worth the risk?

Of course. He’d just had this conversation with Edelgard.

“Any infiltrators would be more wary of the knights than students and any such group would be small in number. We should be able to handle it without excessive reinforcements.” The thirty students in the Eagles had combat in their belts. They’d still need to tip things. “I’ll requisition the armory for better armaments. In the meantime, keep on the lookout for any suspicious activity. We’re expecting this attack during the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth on the 26th but their plans may change and execute earlier.”

“Do you even know who you’re looking for?”

Byleth turned to see Shamir intruding on their meeting, Cyril coming on her heels. “Pilgrims from western Fódlan.”

“So easy to see, are they?”

“I’ve lived here all my life. I can spot them.”

“But what about your students?”

Good point. “Cyril here’s gonna be keeping an eye out too. If he spots anything he’ll report it to you after me.”

“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt Lady Rhea.” The youth said with a firm resolution in his brown eyes.

Good, Cyril could be relied on. And there was someone else who’d be good at this too. “Let’s bring Claude in on this too.”

“Claude?” Edelgard raised in surprise. “Yes, as crafty as he is he’d be able to keep a good eye out. We should avoid telling Dimitri for the same reason. He’s not as subtle.”

“You know what to do.”

* * *

“My help?” Claude raised an eyebrow with the question. “Don’t you have the Eagles for something like that? If you really wanted to be my pal you missed your chance, Professor.”

“Are you really gonna turn this down?”

“Course not. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t gonna rib you for it. But you’ve also notched out their plan pretty much already do you really need another set of eyes?”

“It doesn’t hurt if something changes.”

“Gotcha. I’ll make the Deer proud. Maybe spread the love a bit though? As payment for our quality services.” He winked.

“I’ll think about it.”

**Blue Sea Moon 6, Imperial Year 1180**

Most of the day he spent investigating reports and activities of other parts of the monastery. Though he’d come up with the idea he needed to double-check the available information. Biasing himself towards his own idea couldn’t be overlooked.

And for everything it only seemed more likely. The greenhouses plants were not so valuable. The kitchen’s stock was not at all despite the quality of meats. The lesser treasure vaults would not be worth it in consideration of operation costs and acquisition. The library was open to anyone. The tomes reserved for higher ranks were without much value either, even if thieves would be unaware. The armory was well-stocked but the weapons stored were available anywhere else.

The more he searched the more it only reinforced the idea that this attack, if it existed at all, was targeting the Mausoleum.

None of the questions he sent around found anyone suspicious prowling the grounds. Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer. Knights of Seiros. Nothing at Garreg Mach was nothing out of the ordinary.

  
  


**Blue Sea Moon 9, Imperial Year 1180**

Until the ninth.

A slight bit of time after sundown and he spotted Claude and Edelgard at the bottom of the steps separating the upper dorms and lower dorms.

“Professor, we’ve spotted something suspicious,” said Edelgard. Byleth descended the steps to see. A hole in the wall. The bricks and mortar were torn apart by something. Debris scattered outwards on the grass.

“Looks like someone tunneled in,” said Claude. “We must have just missed them if they didn’t try and clean up the mess.”

Garreg Mach had numerous underground passages even if he’d never visited them in person. If infiltrators managed to use one of them… “We’ll need to investigate.”

“Love the confidence, Professor.” Claude shrugged. “But the three of us aren’t gonna be enough if an army’s waiting down there.”  _ It’d be fine. _

“If we wait too long, whatever trail they leave might be cleaned up.” said Edelgard.

“Mobilizing the knights at this hour would be too slow.” Too many would be getting drunk or exhausted after their shift was over. The best situation would be finding some students.

“Professor, Edelgard, Claude.” Dimitri walked up with Linhardt, Ashe and Hilda behind him. “Is something amiss?”

Seven was probably enough. Byleth quickly explained the hole. “I see, in that case you can count on my assistance.”

“Mine as well,” Ashe added. “I still owe you for Lonato, after all.”

Linhardt shook his head. “I think I’ll pass. Too many interesting books to read at this hour.”

“Going into some gross dark hole right before bed?” said Hilda. “Ick. I’ll pass. Why you’d want to do that right before bed I’ll never guess.”

“We don’t have a choice,” said Byleth. “This may be connected to the attempt on the archbishop’s life.”

“All the more reason we should help,” reaffirmed Dimitri.

“This is an order, Linhardt,” said Edelgard.

“Come on Hilda,” said Claude, “consider this today’s training.”

“I did plenty of training today.”

“Training in being asleep, I bet.”

“I wish,” said Linhardt.”

“Ugh, fine. I can’t leave you all alone I guess.”

“Alright, follow me.” Byleth tore off a nearby torch and led their little group down into the darkness. Broken by the faint hint of light at the end of their descent. There, at the bottom, with stone of black-green-yellow, hung torches on the wall burning bright. Their smoke flowing up through cuts in the ceiling rising far too high above. Walls of ancient stone, worn away by the scuff of hundreds of boots. Thick gates of barred iron. Levers poking out randomly from the walls. And the floors clean of dust, dirt and grime. People had come through here, and recently.

“This place gives me the creeps,” said Hilda, her voice echoing down the halls. She already pulled her ax free.

“Y-you don’t think there’s ghosts down here, do you?” asked Ashe, a slight chill creeping into his voice as he unslung his bow.

“The things down here are much worse than ghosts.”

A voice of crass confidence broke the darkness and the speaker stepped from the darkness to the seven weapons now pointed at him. “Now, isn’t that just peculiar. What are a bunch of academy students doing down here?”

“Are you the one trying to kill the archbishop?” Dimitri shouted immediately.

“Rhea? Please? Well, not that I expect surface-dwellers to take me at my word.” The man snapped his fingers.

From hidden alcoves emerged a dozen figures in pale white and purples. “So how about I take you hostage instead and we can have a nice long talk.” Everyone sprang into defensive formations around Linhardt and Ashe. 

“Looks like they want to do it the fun way,” a boisterous voice arrived before the tall man shouting it rounded a corner. “Looks like it’s time for the Capturing King of Grappling to do his job!”

King of Grappling? That sounded familiar.

“Huh? Do I know you? You look kinda familiar,” said Hilda, aimed at the tall man.

“Probably not. I don’t think I’d forget a pretty lady like you.”

“No, no, you look really familiar.”

He did. Why though?

“Maybe she’s a debt collector, B.” A red-haired girl came out in a half-clothed uniform.

“What have we told you about bringing your surface business down here?” a high-pitched girl came in from behind with a long skirt and banded hair. She looked familiar too.

Everyone but the red-haired girl looked familiar. Not the same type of familiar that Edelgard’s eyes resonated either. “Do I know you?” he had to ask.

For a moment all the eyes focused on him.

And the quick realisation shot the leader’s eyes open. “It’s the captain’s kid! Looks like the knights have finally gotten sick of us and sent their little Ashen Demon down here to clean us out. Send’em packin’ boys!”

That could have gone better.

The men who’d stayed silent took the lead and rushed them while the leader and girls stayed behind. The big man followed in with a shout all his own.

  
  


The man struck with his fists - quick in deception of his size and attempted to grab and link through with attacks but Byleth was too trained to fall for it. He brushed aside his fists and fingers and swatted at them. If Byleth bruised those bare hands then he wouldn’t be able to bring them to bear. The man realized this exactly and dropped his hands to pull up a pair of falling apart training gauntlets. The wooden handgrip barely holding together the metal pipe below and the guard shattered entirely. A strong hit would render it worthless entirely. Simple to see.

Simple to expect.

Byleth readied himself for a full force swing and aimed it directly at the man’s head. He brought one arm up and the sword burst from Byleth’s arms as he dropped it, ducked low -- under the man’s punch and charged in with an uppercut. The man fell back as Byleth followed up with a rush to the chin and kept him on the back foot. The sword spun around in air and Byleth grabbed it free and brought it into his combo unleashing blow after blow on exposed skin and unprotected areas. The man gritted his teeth and returned to a guard but other than a single blow to the abdomen couldn’t land a hit before Byleth had him on the ground covered in welts that would become bruises.

“Argh, how do you hit so hard with a wooden sword?” the big man complained.

“Is that really what we should be complaining about, B?” the red-haired girl said.

All around him the rest of the students had subdued their attackers. Dimitri had overpowered completely and rushed the red-haired girl, his spear tip at her throat. Edelgard had beaten back her enemies and had the blonde girl pinned to the wall. The rest had the leader and his remaining men circled and bloodied.

“Ugh, this is the worst birthday ever,” the man beneath him said.

The leader scoffed. “Hmph, always knew the knights were gonna put us down one of these days. Thought they’d at least they’d have the dignity of sending the captain rather than his brat.”

“We’re not here to kill you.”

“Another empty promise from the church. We got your scouts down here plenty attacking our guys and you’re still playing innocent.”

“You have mistaken us entirely,” said Dimitri. “We are students of the Officers Academy and this is one of our professors. We are done here searching for whomever may have broken into the monastery using these underground tunnels.”

  
  


“Perhaps the men we’re searching for are the same ones who have attacked your comrades.”

“That sure is a convenient story you’re trying to spout there. Sure is convenient the few we’ve taken care of have church markings on them.”

“Western Church markings?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Because the Western Church is trying to assassinate the archbishop.”

There was a sudden pause as the information floated in the air.

“Yayyyyy.” The red-haired girl said as blandly as she could.

“Are you celebrating the archbishop’s murder?” Dimitrai asked agasp.

“Only when she dies.”

“You low-life—!”

“Dimitri: stop.” Byleth gave a firm command.

The boy looked up, vanishing pain in his eyes. “Very well, Professor.”

“Keep your man under control there, Professor,” said the leader. “Or is he just another dog of the church like you are?”

“Really? Do you know me? You seem familiar.” He looked at the man and the blonde. “Three of you do.” The red-haired was a complete mystery, as were all the others lying unconscious.

“Can’t expect the captain’s little ghost to remember everyone who’s been through these halls I guess. Yeah, two years ago I was part of the Officers Academy.”

“Eight years for me,” the man said.

“Three,” said the blonde.

“What are you doing down here?”

“Uh, surviving, what else? Surface world doesn’t want much to do with us down here. Who’d want to come down here by choice. An idiot, that’s who.”

“Hey!” the man shouted.

“And thus my point is proven.”

“Not like your little scheme did much good for us here, pal.”

Claude laughed. “This wasn’t much of a scheme by any definition. A couple of guys hiding in the dark?”

“That’s because those goons keep messing with our guys,” said the man. “Got too many back home on guard duty to pull off one of our real crazy stunts.”

Home…? The tunnels, the anger, the traffic. Realization. “Abyss.”

“Yeesh, what did Jeralt teach you if it took you that long to realize?”

“What’s this ‘Abyss’?” asked Dimitri.

“The underground community of Garreg Mach.”

“Where the church loves to bury its dirty little secrets. Throw away the people it doesn’t have a use for anymore.”

Like forbidden tomes. Wherein answers to Sothis might lie. Byleth removed his sword from the man’s chest. “We’re not the ones attacking Abyss.”

“Yeah, we’d probably be real dead if you were,” said the man. “Hey, Yuri, I think these guys are on the up. As much as anyone working for the church is, anyway.” Byleth offered him a hand up, which he took. Powerfully built, with only a jacket on. Officers Academy uniform coat in greys of light and dark and no undershirt revealing a thick set of abs. Arms strong and grip to match. A wild head of dark hair that sat untamed. “Name’s Balthus, the Fame King of Grappling.”

“There you go being all friendly. Fine, fine. They’re not here to kill us all. Let’s all be friends and what not.”

“Balthus…” said Hilda. “Balthus von Albrecht?! Baltie! That is you, isn’t it!”

“Huh? Baltie? Only—ah crap,” he shook at the words, “I just tried to fight Holst’s little sis, didn’t I? That ain’t good. Don’t tell him, please? I got enough to worry about with the debt hunters and whoever’s attacking Abyss.”

“You know each other, too?” asked Byleth.

“Yeah,” said Hilda. “He’s an old friend of my brother and me. He ran away a year ago after some gold collectors got on his case. Holst was pretty mad after he vouched to get you in as part of Fódlan’s Locket’s guards.”

“Look, Locket pay sucked and I couldn’t ever get any bounties since the Almyrans don’t pay for prisoners. Give me a break, Hilda.”

“Oh no, not until you apologize for making me work. Or I’ll have to tell my big brother all about it.”

The giant of a man hung his head. “Ugh, I’m sorry, OK?”

“That’s a start. Now, Professor, how about you keep going.”

“I think introductions are in order here…” Byleth introduced himself, and likewise did everyone continue doing the same until finally Edelgard was last.

“Edelgard?” said the blonde, “why, that is the name of the Imperial princess.” Her uniform was best kept amongst their engagers. Free of the obvious tears and damage that was commonplace among the others even in light of how much it covered. She lacked a jacket, but the upper grey of her blouse reached her wrists. The skirt, dress, really, extended to her ankles and her heeled shoes underneath. A small folded fan sat at her hip. Hair gold on top and kept flat by a purple band reaching ear to ear and some peculiar quirk her hair also showed shades of purple within. Purple eyes that locked with Edelgard.

“Yes, yes it is,” said Imperial princess answered.

“Hahaha… oh dear. Oh dear, I did not just commit treason, did I?” The same fear that flashed across Balthus’s face now did so on hers.

“I suppose that would depend on where you are from.”

“Where I am from? Why, of course that is simple! For I am Constance von Nuvelle!”

“Nuvelle? Of House Nuvelle of the Empire?”

“But of course! Even the lowest peasant would have heard of my glorious house.”

“And its ruin.”

“Errrr, yes, but that will be rectified post-haste, yes yes!”

This was too strange not to intervene in. “But Port Nuvelle was liberated successfully,” said Byleth.

“While our city may have recovered by the Empire the damage had already been done. My parents fell in its defense and the Imperial court unwilling to restore my right to rule.”

So, all the work he’d done had accomplished little?

Edelgard sighed at the mention. “The Six Great Noble Families of the Empire always resented the freedom House Nuvelle was allowed. When the time came they were glad to ignore Nuvelle’s plight. All I can do is offer apologies in place of my powerless father.”

“N-no, Your Highness. The one at fault is neither you nor His Majesty…”

Byleth said, “Some of it should fall on me as well. If we’d been faster in the counter-attack perhaps we could have accomplished more.”

“Am I ignorant of some subtlety here? Your garb marks you as a member of the Church of Seiros, does it not? They were not involved in force during that war.”

“I was working as a mercenary during the Dagda and Brigid War.”

“Y-you were? W-well, regardless, I am not sure one more would have made a difference.”

No, if he’d swept south faster the third wing wouldn’t have - no, not the time. “A discussion for another time.”

“One that promises to be fascinating,” said Edelgard.

“I’m glad we’re all getting friendly but can you get this guy off me already. It’s getting really creepy,” said the girl Dimitri had pinned.

“Ah, erm, my apologies…” Dimitri backed off from his aggressive stance.

“What good are apologies gonna do?”

“I promise to make it up to you one day.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Which is gonna be never.”

“No, truly I will make it good once the means allow.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” The girl dragged herself up and headed back over to the leader. A shade of darker skin even in a place absent light like this. Unruly red-pink hair that reached her shoulders that hadn’t seen a brush in months. Matching eyes that barely seemed to care. The jacket she wore matched the same ash-grey color of Balthus but was ragged and chopped in half above her midsection which was free to see entirely. A purple undershirt peeking out between the open folds of the jacket. A skirt with some slight tears and knee-high boots and socks beneath.

“So,” said Claude, ”what’s your boss man?”

“Oh, that’s long, drawn out and not at all relevant,” said the leader.

“I think being down here in… Abyss was it? Is a story enough for its own.”

“And one you’re not gonna get to hear. I think it’s best for both our sakes if we just forget this little meeting ever happened.”

“No,” said Byleth, “if the Western Church is attempting to use these tunnels to circumvent monastery security this is exactly where we should be.”

“Huh, so that story about the archbishop’s assissination wasn’t a lie?”

“That is hardly something to lie about,” said Dimitri.

Even if it probably was a lie. “If we take care of them, that will safeguard your people as well.”

“Thanks but Abyss doesn’t like getting help from the surface. We’re in enough debt to the church as it is,” said Yuri.

“Then pay without gold.”

“Already giving me the leer, eh? What would Seteth think?” Yuri smirked.

_ What? _ “I’ve heard Abyss is home to a trove of information banned from the church’s register.”

“You want the shadow library?”

“Now that’s something to finally be interested in,” said Linhardt. “One can discern the hidden truths in the works above but sometimes directness is the better way.”

“Not a good idea digging around the church’s dirty secrets, Professor,” said Claude. “If Lady Rhea ever found out, even you wouldn’t get away unscatched.”

It would be fine. “Do we have a deal?”

“How do I know this isn’t some scheme to get past our defenses?

“That seems like too much effort when we could just storm the place.”

“‘Directness’ huh? Balthus, Constance, what do you think? Our ghostly friend here’s been church all his life nipping at his pop-pop’s heels without a thought all his own.”

“I mean, I didn’t see him much when I was going through the classes but using that wooden blade there’s a lot better than the iron at his waist so he’s probably on the level.”

“He was too curt during my time at the academy. But if his orders were to put us down we’d already be on our way to the goddess.”

“Well that’s two for. What’s your opinion, Hapi?”

“Ugh, who cares. You decide, Yuribird.”

“Yuri?” said Ashe, “Ah! Now I remember! You’re the same Yuri who’s Count Rowe’s adopted son.”

“And you’re the stray that Lonato picked up.”

“Yes. How did you come by here? Really, I've heard Count Rowe’s worried about your safety, you should really tell him you’re all right.”

“Yeah ‘safety’ isn’t why he’s worried. But let’s table the boring conversation for something more interesting like breaking this tie.” The leader looked him over using those pale purple eyes. Matching hair looking him over. The academy jacket is out of place, even with its grey embroideries within. Half cape over left shoulder and arm. “All right. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. Not giving us the chop’s earned that much at least. Though Alferic will be the final judge.”

“Who’s Alferic?”

“Wait, how do you not know? He’s a member of the church… convinced Lady Rhea to set up all the stuff in Abyss. Our eneminities, our classes, our house.”

“House?”

“Oh boy, I knew you weren’t a bright one years ago but I thought this whole conversation changed my mind. We’re the Ashen Wolves. The secret fourth house of Garreg Mach.”

That was… absurd. “Ashen Wolves? Named after the guardian stars I take it?”

“Least you know about that.”

A fourth house? “How long has this been going on?”

“Fifteen years, give or take. Course our foursome here only popped up recently.”

He’d have to discuss this with his father and Rhea… “So our deal: We take care of these intruders and you give access to the library.”

“Sure, sure. Course, we don’t have any leads on our interlopers just yet and letting the lot of you loose in Abyss would just get you lost.”

“Unless we work together.”

“Now you’re getting it. When we get a whiff of the intruders I’ll send a message and you get to come right in like the cavalry.”

“Assuming your message can get here that fast,” said Claude.

“Oh don’t worry, I can keep them running in circles for a month if it comes to it but that’d be a pain in the ass.”

“That good are you? Course you could also just close up the passage once we’re up and gone.”

“And miss the chance to use you folks to fight our enemies rather than risk our own hides? Not a chance.”

It was still not a guarantee. “We’ll need more than that,” said Edelgard before Byleth could.

“Heh, you’re smarter than you look. Hey, Constance, go up with them.”

“Me! Are you daft Yuri? I would sooner sleep in Bathus’s bed than embrace the sunlight once more.”

“Hey!” he said, “what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Ugh, do I even need to explain? I’ve seen steeds care more for the blakentry than you. We don’t have the linens to spare to keep replacing your ratty sheets.”

“I never asked you to replace my stuff.”

“Such poor hygiene could just as easily lead to disease which Abyss wouldn’t survive.”

  
  


“I wasn’t exactly asking for a transfer student,” a properly befuddled Edelgard said.

“Actually, studying alongside the Imperial Princess would be the proper route to reestablish the glory of House Nuvelle...”

“That’s the spirit,” said Yuri. “I’ll clear it with Aelfric later, go and be you, shady lady.”

“This is temporary! Only temporary!” shouted Constance. “My home is Abyss, regardless of its… faculties. Or its leadership”

She did seem to be a bit happier about it though.

_ Let us hope this ‘shadow library’ holds the knowledge we seek. _ Sothis spoke within.  _ Or perhaps you are simply an adventurous sort. _

It would be their last chance before asking Rhea.

**Blue Sea Moon 10, Imperial Year 1180**

Just like that, Constance showed up in the Black Eagles’ homeroom. Light shining on her face and casting a deep shadow over her eyes. “The sun…” she bemoaned. She seemed even paler in the sunlight than torchlight. Her eyes lazily drifted over the classroom, taking in the accommodations.

“Uh, Professor? What’s with the new student?” asked Dorothea.

“It’s complicated.” An understatement.

“Constance?” said Ferdinand. “Constance von Nuvelle? My old friend, it is you!”

“Hello, Ferdinand…” she weakly replied.

“Goodness it has been ages! Where have you been? How are you?”

“Ferdie, I think you should let the poor dear accustom herself first.”

“And I shall be right there by her side helping her all the way.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“One so noble cannot help a soul as bleak and hopeless as mine…”

“Just watch me!”

Edelgard shook her head. “This is going to be quite the classroom, Professor.”

**Blue Sea Moon 11, Imperial Year 1180**

The sky overhead ran dark, a gray overclouded rarity in Garreg Mach.

“Ha ha ha!” Constance laughed as she rained lightning upon the target dummy. “None can match my magical might!” Her bolt matched her words, the attack had blown the wet straw asunder.

But she was far from the greatest mage within the year’s students.

Lysithia von Ordelia of the Golden Deer sent a pair of black orbs into her targets, obliterating both then adding on a third right after.

That cut the laughter short.

Over to the side, Annette Dominic from the Blue Lions looked on in awe before sending a sharp blade of wind to slice off the arm of the dummy.

Byleth gave them all passing nods before demonstrating a fireball at his own treated target.

“Hardly someone who should be instructing with so lackluster a performance,” said Constance.

“Combat magic isn’t just about power, it’s about accuracy, conservation, manipulation.”

“All qualifications I’ve exceeded in both of my schoolings.”

“Both?” said Annette. “Ah, did you attend the School of Sorcery too?”

“Graduated just before I enrolled in Garreg Mach.”

“Awww we must have just missed each other.”

“If you’ve already graduated from the Officers Academy how are you back?” asked Lysithea.

“That is a series of impeccably complex questions that I only believe our professor here could answer.”

“I asked Rhea if she could join the class and she allowed it.”

“That… that was not as intricate as I expected.” She shrunk back at the idea. Only to spring forth with a renewed vigor. “But of course even Lady Rhea recognizes my genius. Yes! I must certainly be an aide to a teacher of your limited capabilities.” She laughed with a high-pitched laugh.

Your last attempt was off by a hand.”

“Errr, just showing my juniors what an intentional failure looks like so they might avoid it themselves.”

In that case. “What can you say about Annette and Lysithea’s spellwork?” The two girls looked over to him in surprise.

“Of course you seek my onion from such a rudimentary understanding of your own.” Constance was all smiles for the moment. “These two young girls are awash with talent and potential when under proper guidance. Given enough polish they may even shine nearly as bright as I do.”

Which amounted to nothing but superficial praise. Lysithea was seething with anger and barely holding back a glare whereas Annette had to beat back a sigh. 

“You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

“Their efforts are not the result of some innate talent but their hard work and thorough exercise. Lysithea is at the training grounds as much as Felix, or Raphael or Caspar. Annette never rests, never lets herself stand still for a moment. Always doing her best to push herself along.”

“I-I did not mean to say they are without a work ethic.” Constance babbled out. “Merely that one cannot shape the deadliest sword without the best material.”

“And the strongest sword is wasted in the hands of the inept.” Nemesis held the power to split a mountain yet Seiros still struck him down with sheer skill.

“I do not appreciate being made the villain of your little lesson here!”

“You said you are here to assist with the lessons, did you not?”

  
  


**Blue Sea Moon 12, Imperial Year 1180**

Cethleann stared up at the statue of herself. Cracks in the facade, chips of stone fallen off and dust in places it should not be. Whatever Seiros was doing letting their effigies fall apart like this? It was simply embarrassing. Moreso than the statue being as large as her father Cichol in the first place. Honestly...

But that was a concern for another day. Oh yes, there would be the most scrumptious cake prepared for their dining later in the day. Perhaps it would even resemble a fish! As silly an idea as it was. The confectioners of this time period were quite adept in their craft.

Cethleann put on her mask and Flayn left the chamber of the Saints.

There was quite the vigorous recital in the cathedral during the day of her birth. Though the lyrics to the  _ Hymn of Saint Ceithleann _ were lovingly voiced it was almost humorous in how they portrayed the saint. So many embellishments and fabrications. Rhea’s fault, or the clergy’s? It amused her all the same.

“Flayn?”

“Oh, hello, Professor,” she greeted the new teacher. “How are you today on this wonderful day?”

“Well, yourself?”

“It has been a most refreshing time.”

“Good. Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Oh, very much so!” It was finally her time to have peers!

She hurriedly followed him over to the garden gazebo, decorated with little fishies. “Oh my, Professor, you didn’t have to go through so much trouble for me.” How was he even aware of her fascination with the aquatic depths? They had not converse overly much.

“It was no trouble.” He kept his characteristic stoicism. Such a familiar look as he did. Why. How? That feeling…

“Is something bothering you?” He asked as he poured a cup of tea.

“Oh, nothing so much as a bother.” She gratefully took a cup. “I was just intrigued by your face.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh my, I did not mean to be so forward.” Not yet anyway. “There is just… something striking about your looks.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She took a sip. “Ah!” That delightful swirl of sweet with a hint of tart! “Sweet-apple blend! Most wonderful, Professor. May I ask for what reason you have chosen to partake of my company today?” 

“It’s your birthday, as I believe. The same day as Saint Cethleann’s. Same Crest as well, I believe.”

She giggled. “Truly am I blessed. Perhaps others share this date of birth and Crest as well.” But how ever did he find about her Crest? She did not share that information freely, nor would Seteth.

“As Seteth with Saint Cichol.”

No! could he have!—but that blank expression remained. Was this yearning more than…?

“You’ve stopped smiling.”

“Oh, my apologies. The subject of Crests is not among my favorite tea party topics.”

“I understand.” He added a nod. “The fishing these days is going well.”

“Is that so? I have never had much talent for the sport myself. Watching my parents cast their lines was enough for me.”

“Was Seteth not with you?”

Oh, bother! “O-oh, yes, he was, certainly. I just never strung his line.” Let him see through that lie!

“Ah.” The professor took a sip. “How is this fishing in your home?”

“Well, Enbarr’s fishing was quite sad, really, but that is not what those canals were for. But the fishing off the Rhodos Coast was quite spectacular. Watching the ships in the distance, the birds in the air and the fish jumping.”

“And the monuments to the saints.”

“Most certainly.” Flynn took another sip of tea. “I do wish to return there someday…”

“Perhaps we will.”

Now that was a promise she wished could be kept.

  
  
  


**Blue Sea Moon 25, Imperial Year 1180**

He was wearing a groove in the stones checking out the library so much but there had to be some answer to his questions in there. But all of it was just lies, nonsense and misdirection. Maybe that shadow library would have better information but how good could that be if the church had their hands on those books in the first place?

“Claude?”

He swiveled around. “Hey, Professor, what’re you doing here at this hour?” 

“Waiting for you.”

“Me? Huh?” Dammit was he on to him? Had he misread this? Was the shadow library a trick?

“It was your birthday, but I was unable to set up a tea party. I couldn’t find you.”

“Just means all my sneaking’s paid off.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” A delightfully feminine voice snuck up on him.

“Oh, is Dimitri here too?” Claude looked at Edelgard coming from behind a pillar.

“Not tonight.”

So she was aware the prince in blue was looking through in candlelight too, eh? “Well, you wanna invite me to tea too, Princess?”

“Only if you would indulge my questions.”

“That interested in me, huh?”

“I’d like to hear this as well,” said the professor.

“Yeesh, shoulda known you’d take her side. Well, go ahead, I’ve got plenty to hide.”

“All right then,” she said, “you were only acknowledged as the grandson of Duke Reigan last year.”

“Yep, my grandfather’s the leading duke of the Alliance.”

“That means you could only be the offspring of either the duke’s son, or his missing daughter.”

“That’s how logic should go. Assuming the crusty old bastard didn’t dally around behind Granny’s back.”

“Is that really a way to talk about your grandfather? Even when you know it’s not true?”

“Hey, lighten up. Literally, this place is dark.”

She glared at him. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

“What does it matter who my parents are or were? That Crest of Reigan I have is the real thing.”

“So it would seem. But then the question becomes, why confirm you as the successor now? Certainly doing so earlier would have ebbed the tensions in the Alliance.”

“If things were that easy we would have done it.”

“Interesting, so you’ve been in contact with your grandfather beforehand?”

“Sounds that way, huh?”

“So why now? Perhaps it’s because Dimitri and I were confirmed to be arriving in the same year.”

Sharp as a silver sword this one. “You’ve got quite the ego on you, Edelgard.”

“So, what is it you want to talk about?”

“Now that would be telling.” He looked at Byleth. “Alas, my goals are something I must reserve for my professor. You missed your chance, Byleth.”

Edelgard chuckled at his non-answer. “Well, I hope whatever it is doesn’t interfere with my own plans.”

Maybe. Maybe not. “And I hope yours don’t interfere with mine.” That was the end goal all along, wasn’t it?

But until then it was just another mystery on the pile. Would that shadow library have the answers he sought? Or would it be Rhea, the professor or even Edelgard who brought them to fore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I'm alive.
> 
> Had to move again. Ugh.
> 
> Still no incoming on a consistent schedule but I want to write again. And NaNo's coming up...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten : The Ashen Demon**

**Blue Sea Moon 26, Imperial Year 1180**

There wasn’t a single scrap of evidence that the target was anything other than the Holy Mausoleum. Even the evidence relayed up through Abyss didn’t contradict their assertions.

“Honestly part of me wants it to be somewhere else so it’s not so easy,” said Claude as the Eagles and Deer gathered outside their classrooms.

“I’m fine with it being easy for once,” said Linhardt. “Ever since I’ve arrived I haven’t had nearly as much time for sleeping.”

“You’re asleep every other time I see you outside the classroom,” said Caspar.

“And I’d like it to be every time.”

“Ouch.”

Claude chuckled. “Fun aside, anyone else got any ideas? Or are we all trusting in the professor here?”

“I really thought my idea about the kitchen was a good one,” said Raphael.

“If they were hungry maybe,” said Dorothea, keeping her tone stable despite the fanciful objective. “But I don’t think people as prosperous as the Western Church are doing all this for food.”

“Food’s always a good reason in my book.”

“It certainly would be better if that was a good reason for everyone.”

“My other suggestion would be the tomes in the library,” Edelgard volunteered. “There are volumes irreplaceable across Fodlan; I know there’s plenty of people who’d like to take volumes away from the church’s archives.” Claude made not a movement at the implication.

“I’d disagree,” said Lysithea, “the library is not guarded well enough to require an act of this magnitude to remove its contents.”

“Oh? You speak as if you’ve done so.”

  
  


“Doesn’t the church have like, a treasure vault or something? Has to be plenty of valuable stuff inside there,” said Hilda. “Right, Marianne?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, I suppose…”

“Certainly so,” said Ferdinand, “but Dorothea’s wise words must be repeated. The Western Church is well-off itself. For what purpose would it concur such a bewildering plan to further its own wealth?”

“Nobles are always hoarding wealth,” said Leonie. “Much as I don’t want to accuse the church of the same…”

“To put to use for the betterment of the commoners and all under our purview,” Constance quickly instated a rebuttal.

“Indeed, Constance,” Lorenz agreed with a smile. “The money we draw from the commons goes to ensuring their lives are taken care of.”

“We’re getting off-track here,” Edelgard stepped in. “The treasure vaults will still be well-guarded during the ritual. The Mausoleum is one of the few that will be both understrength and is otherwise restricted from outside access.”

“The perfect place to hide away,” Bernadetta dreamed.

“Not if we’re fighting over it,” Ignatz corrected her. “I wish we didn’t have to fight over such ancient artifacts. The very tombs of the Saints themselves and we’re about to despoil the grounds.”

“Saint Seiros herself is no stranger to bloodshed,” Hubert evenly said. “She would understand, I am certain.”

“Pretty sacrilegious to say that, you know?” Leonie affixed him a crooked look.

“I would say avoiding bloodshed is more sacrilegious in this case.”

“Getting along well I see,” Seteth arrived with those words, Flynn next to him. “For her part, Her Grace has agreed that if it should come to it, eradicating these heretics will not defile the rest of the Saints. Rest assured the goddess’s judgement will not fall upon you.”

_ Who is he to question whom I will smote? _ Sothis seethed.  _ Hmph, show him my dissatisfaction. _

What was with her? “It would mean Rite of Rebirth worked.”

His comment shot Seteth’s eyes wide. “I… yes I imagine it would.”

Flynn giggled. “It is not often my brother is flustered like that.”

“That is quite enough Flayn. Come, we must help Lady Rhea in the Goddess Tower. Professor, I know I can trust you with safeguarding our Saints.” The siblings left.

“First time I’ve seen Seteth off-guard like that,” said Claude. “Good job, Professor.”

Right. “We’re all in agreement then.” Nods from Eagles and Deer. “Then we prepare.”

Petra’s eyes glistened with familiarity. “We shall lay in ambush and hunt these new foes.”

They’re made their advances. Made their moves. Armed with hefty steel and new armor. Full metal for those who qualified. Thicker linens. Ready as they could be.

* * *

The overflow of pilgrims to Garreg Mach had reached its peak. Movement ceased to be personal and fell wayside to moving in the flow of traffic to the important areas. They swarmed the entrance, the halls, the cathedral and the Goddess Tower. Knights in abundance ensuring no conflict began and if any started -- it ended. But even still they were too few. Most stationed at the Goddess Tower. A shield for the archbishop and Seteth secluding themselves to pray. Jeralt and Alois tasked with defending the entrance to the tower. The bridge kept clear of any pilgrims. They’d make due with praying simply on the exterior.

But the division of attention meant the knights simply couldn’t examine every single soul who walked the monastery. More than once Byleth caught a trespasser or someone concealing a weapon. He let them go or handed them over as necessary but each action further underlined their conclusions. Someone could sneak in.

So they’d do the same.

Dressed in drab commoner linens, the Black Eagles and Golden Deer carefully snuck through the pilgrim lines. Entering into the Holy Mausoleum, descending the steps. Hundreds of others dipped into the recess of Garreg Mach as hundreds more rose from its innards.

And below in that massive crypt more faithful prayed, lit by thousands of candles burning pitifully. Their prayers kept to the lower divide, where Saints of lesser fame rested. The Four and Seiros held their coffins further in, their Crests born on tombstones. A muttered handful of knights stood watch. Sacrifices for the plan should it come to pass.

The hidden students prayed. Hands clasped but hearts elsewhere. And eyes on a group of five approaching a knight. The knight in his shining armor stepped forward to send them back but one moved forward, flashing a dagger in his hand and slipped it into the side.

It was Cobin who managed a shout. Too late to save any others. Chone fell second. His father not there to save him. Fried, too distracted protecting himself to watch his son die before him. Auburn barely able to lay hand on her sword before an assassin’s took her life.

Though Edwardo managed to fend off and kill a foe the rest were stricken by arrow, spell and sword. Emilio, Grey, Luke, Kain, Kent, Fenix, Louis.

The calm disintegrated as the honest pilgrims ran in terror. Fireballs licking their backs as they ran. The infiltrators charged onwards, well over a hundred in number. And more as reinforcements warped in, armed and armored in more than just concealed weaponry. A fighting force that had evaded all detection.

The goddess’s power did not save them. Could not, to catch these traitors to the faith.

And in the middle of it all a figure in midnight black armor. Atop a horse armored for the heaviest of war. A grim visage of death masked across his face between pauldrons bearing spikes. A wicked scythe held aloft, whirled around effortlessly in one hand despite its clear heft. A crimson shawl draped like a cape. Every facet of appearance is designed to intimidate.

To thrill.

The knight’s gaze moved dispassionately among the Black Eagles and Golden Deer remaining behind. Only the most subtle of slight nods at seeing Edelgard and himself.

Even from this distance the man glowed with confidence in skill. “Edelgard, take the west with the Eagles; Claude secure the east with the Deer. I’ll handle him.”

“Professor, I must disagree,” said Edelgard. “We would be better served avoiding such a foe.”

“Lady Edelgard is correct, we cannot risk fighting such a foe. So long as he ignores us, we should let him.”

“This is a time I love to agree,” said Claude. “That’s the type of guy armies go out of their way to avoid. We should let him go if he’s not pursuing us. Poking him might make things worse.”

“If we wait he gains the advantage. If we concentrate, their goal remains unchallenged. If we divide our numbers he can ride out and strike us down without effort.I will deal with him. Divide our forces and take to your tasks.”

“Then we should focus our full force to drive him off entirely,” said Hubert.

“We’ll incur too many casualties with such a strategy. I alone am enough.” He drew his sword.

“Love the confidence, Professor,” said Claude, “but even you can’t—and away he goes.”

Byleth strode forward even as everyone tried to call him back. His body was. He was stronger than Cassandra, maybe even stronger than Jeralt. This would be a good fight for once.

“Death Knight!” A voice roared from beyond. “Prove your strength and scatter these fools!”

“I do not answer to you,” the Death Knight’s voice rided with derision. “I do not pursue callow prey.”

“I told you I would not pursue…” his casual disdain dull as monotone. Byleth’s swift strike cursed a spike of excitement. “So be it.”

That massive scythe swung with speed and force and dodging it took his reflexes stretched to the limits. “Yes.” The scythe came back around and Byleth managed to half-parry it away. “Entertain me. Marshall me to my limits and beyond. Drive us forward and into the throes of madness!”

_ Wonderful. _ Byleth dashed in, his sword striking the knight’s greaves several times. The great size of the scythe gave it incredible power and its speed was far beyond what its weight should allow but that incredible reach was nothing if Byleth closed the distance. Every time the knight tried to make space Byleth would follow in. Even then, it was close. 

The horse was a champion, bounding around without a single concern for the incredible weight upon its back. The knight swung his scythe even at implausible angles and blow after blow struck. Yet none found the killing edge. Glances, parries, deflections. So close did his attack come fatal that the coat had a new pattern entirely of cuts and bloody steaks.

Excellent. The swings, the cuts. Little by little those close calls became mild, then shallow. Movements read and readied to be stopped. Byleth prepared for his counter. On the next pass he struck.

His full power went into the next strike. The power of his Crest flared, the Crest of Flames, the Goddess’s Crest. His power surged forth in a wrathful strike that sent the man and beast hurtling back. And the broken blade of his sword with it. The iron fragments clattered to the ground as Byleth dropped the utterly useless wreck. The knight was bleeding. “Do all that you can! Indulge in this dances of damnation to our rapturous finish!”

With a maniacal, deep-pitched laugh the knight and steed charged forth. Byleth dove to the knight’s left a moment before he was trampled underfoot. He came around, the scythe lashing against the stonework in unrestrained glee without coming close to striking flesh. 

Byleth took a deep breath and waited. The knight rose high in the saddle as he brought the scythe even higher. Byleth breathed out. The knight swung—Byleth threw his sword straight at the knight’s hand, throwing the timing off and letting him dodge forward and narrowly avoid the killing blow. Deep enough to hurt. Not to slow.

That final swing opened the knight’s guard. Byleth clambered upside the saddle on the knight's left. That massive scythe could not be brought around now. The knight tried to punch him off but brawling was Byleth’s strength, not the knight’s. Byleth used the knight himself as a handhold to pull up even against the knight’s struggles. He stood high, drew his knife with his right hand and stabbed.

The knight stopped it with his left hand, the blade piercing straight through. Clenching his fist the knight’s fist entrapped Byleth’s. But he was not out! He pulled his left hand back and poked at the knight’s eyes! The mask moved, his fingers bounced off the bridge of the nose but Byleth stabbed back with his thumb into the left eye. Gooey.

The knight recoiled back but lashed no counterattack. His hands held unto the scythe he could not bring to bear. Byleth grabbed back unto one of the spikes on the pauldron and reared back.

He headbutted the knight’s helmet full on. Everything went dizzy, his vision blurred and his stomach churned. A rumble of laughter bulged from the knight’s throat but it didn’t matter. Byleth bucked back again—the Crest of Flames powering his next headbutt and the knight’s head flew back. His grip on both ends slackened and Byleth pulled his knife free. Everything spun but he could still aim at the gap between helmet and armor. The tiny blade buried itself into the hilt with a single stab and the Death Knight sputtered about in pain.

“Well done,” he said as Byleth prepared another strike. “Let you and I continue this fight in more worthy circumstances.” Light—darkness erupted around the knight and he vanished—warped away. 

Byleth fell to his knees with a grunt of disappointment. He was almost taking it seriously.

He cleaned his knife and returned it to its scabbard. He was wounded all over. Multiple cuts to his arms, the nasty gash across his chest was bleeding profusely down his clothes. His right hand was in pain, the bones may be crushed. His left fingers still flexed but each movement sent spikes down his arm. 

Everything blurred. There was some color missing. His footsteps couldn’t go quite straight and there was a ringing in his ears. Someone was shouting for him but it was fine.

He could walk. That was enough. He moved deeper into the Mausoleum. There was no time to humor the few enemies in his direct path, though their presence would provide a boon. He could mend his flesh by stripping theirs with nosferatu. The first swordsmen arrogant and greedy until the magic spell tore that apart. The mage along the way throwing fireballs that Byleth had no incentive to dodge. He endured the burns and punched the man towards half-death and finished him off with nosferatu. By the time he reached the coffin of Seiros in the back he’d been restored to workable condition. Only half his body was in pain or bleeding.

The dark mage prying away at the holy remains turned his attention back. “It’s too late,” he said beneath the beaked face mask. “The seal is broken!” He pushed aside the coffin’s lid. “Huh?” Confusion present in his voice. It should be concerning as Byleth descended the stairs towards him. “A sword?” From within he pulled a blade… not even in his hands a second as Byleth kicked it into the air. The mage went backwards. Byleth looked up.

The familiar sword.

He grabbed the Sword of the Creator before it hit the ground. Glowing red in the hands of its rightful owner.

The Crest of Flames burned within.

Yet the Crest Stone of Flames was missing. A gaping hole in the center of the guard.

“Burn!”

Attention returned to battle as a fireball came flying at his face and by relex Byleth batted it aside with the Goddess’s sword. Sothis’s sword.

“What?” The sight so unexpected the mage stood dumbstruck. Byleth advanced as the man fell backwards, anything to stop the deadly advance before him. He raised his hands in defiance, a magical shield presenting itself but the sword cut through it and the mage like mere air.

It was over.

The sword of his dreams in his hands. The sword that betrayed the goddess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna burn out the rest of my backlog to "fresh start" for NaNo.
> 
> That uh, really just means the two "Miklan" chapters after this.
> 
> I wanted to go in a completely different direction for the Death Knight fight from "Byleth goes insane Divine Pulsing and watching the students get slaughtered."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Seeking**

**Verdant Rain Moon 1, Imperial Year 1180**

The moment he could Jeralt confronted Rhea within the advisory room. “The Crest of Flames, Rhea?” Her eyes did not meet his; Seteth remained silent. “The Sword of the Creator too? Why?”

Her composure returned, steeled. “Jeralt there is nothing to concern yourself with.”

“My child having a Crest that vanished a thousand years ago is cause for worry. Rhea, I have served you loyally for so many years. Am I not entitled to the truth about my son? My wife?”

“I must agree with Jeralt here,” said Seteth. “Nemesis’s bloodline is supposed to have been cleansed from Fódlan, yet our professor happened to hold the same Crest as the King of Liberation? I trust the youth, I do, yet you pile mystery upon mystery with us.”

Rhea’s face was a flash of fury that cooled within a blink. With a sigh she said, “Your wife… and your dear child are the last descendants of Nemesis’s line. Long ago, Saint Seiros hid away the final inheritor of Nemesis’s blood so as to never let another King of Liberation rise. This secret has been handed down from archbishop to archbishop. Not even the cardinals are aware of this.”

Rhea continued after another deep sigh. “The Crest never manifested for Sitri, or any of her predecessors, as I’ve been told. So answering such a thing has never had a need to occur. Yet when your blood mixed with hers, a child bearing the goddess’s Crest emerged.”

Because of blood. The Crest of Seiros. Rhea’s blood. Was this preordained? No, no the feeling in his chest, her smile, they were not some puppets in a show! “Was Byleth’s condition related to the Crest?”

“I would not presume such unfortunate tidings.”

But the lack of heartbeat yet a pulse that still flowed… “I… understand, Lady Rhea. Please excuse my vigor in pursuing this matter.”

Rhea weakly smiled. “No, I am glad you concern yourself so with your child’s safety. Please, keep those feelings tight within you. For his sake, and... Sitri’s.”

It wasn’t the answer he was expecting but it was probably the truth. Not the full truth but if he pressed any more…

He headed back to his office and poured him a stiff shot of whisky. Been too long since he had the mind to take a swig like this.

Then a person he didn’t expect whatsoever walked in.

* * *

The professor had the Crest of Flames. Professor Hanneman’s excitement ran laps around all of Garreg Mach. The Sword of the Creator back on the stage of history. Overwriting the fear the invaders caused by breaching a holy locale. Pushing aside

Confirmation piled on confirmation and one point of confusion. The Crest he had - the Crest they shared. That flow, that connection when she first saw him in Remire. She was right. All this time. But the Sword of Creator... it glowed red even without its Crest Stone. It should not be. As much as the Crest of Flames should not. A victim of others as she was.

A mystery to be solved.

She had kept from investigating him publicly as to not arouse suspicion, but the Crest of Flames becoming public would grant a clever cover for her actions. Find out everything she could about her dear teacher. For good or ill.

“Alois,” she began with. Him and a handful of others sitting in the marketplace. “I would like to ask you a question about the professor, if you would answer.”

“If it’s about the sleeves I have no idea. No one does.”

“I…” OK, that was something she wondered about but not enough for this. “No, I would like to hear your history with him.”

“About Byleth, eh?” the vetern knight leaned back on the little stool he sat on. “Why, I know all about my little brother! What do you need?”

“You’ll have to explain the little brother part first,” she said.

“Ah, well, some thirty-odd years ago Jeralt picked me up from the streets and made me his squire. Wasn’t much longer after that that Byleth was born. We’ve been close as brothers for as long as I can remember!”

“I don’t recall him ever mentioning that.”

“That’s my brother for you. Doesn’t let anything slip, haha! Probably why he barely made any friends growing up.”

That seemed an unfortunate certainty. “What was he like, as a child?”

“Oh, much the same as he was now. Same stoic, expression and cool confidence. Well, he’s gotten a bit more animated recently. Looks like my suggestion to have him teach turned out to be a good one.” Alois laughed. “The houses before yours never seemed to take to him all that much. Frankly I think they were jealous he kept clobbering them in duels.”

Certainly there were plenty of nobles who would be unkind to defeat, but for so many years? “I find that a surprise. There is no shame being defeated by the knights of Seiros.” It was entirely possible to be her fate.

“Most of the students didn’t like getting beat by a twelve-year-old.”

“He was engaging students at twelve?” What was Jeralt thinking?

“Aye, none of the other kids his age could keep up. Even most of the ones not his age couldn’t keep up. I think Cassandra Charon was the only one to ever keep herself on the winner’s side of their total fights.”

Thunderstrike Cassandra’s valiance was known across Fódlan, and her teacher had been crossing blades equally for a year? That was… exactly as incredible as defeating the Death Knight. “Thank you for your time, Alois.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Highness. I hope your opinion of this knight has only gotten ‘higher.’”

She couldn’t avoid a grimace so politely excused herself.

Other knights she spoke with collaborated Alois’s story. The members of the Broken Blade praised his insight in saving their numbers. Tomas the librarian spoke of his relentless pursuit of knowledge. The fish keeper of his pond-emptying fishing prowess. The chefs knew his cooking well. All around there was praise for his contributions and abilities.

But none of them ever spoke of the man beneath those skills. Yes, he wore a mask of stoicism, but he was not without emotion or compassion. Did they not see him for who he was beneath that?

* * *

She had to seek out someone else. Someone with a dark mask of his own.

The very Death Knight he’d clashed with just days prior. 

She cornered Jeritza von Hrym in the training grounds. “What do you want?” his lethargic tone asked. 

They were clear. “What is your assessment of the professor?”

His eyes light up beneath the mask, his head tipped back. His jaw clenched. “As the combat instructor…?”

“All of your opinions.” Someone who could match him in that fiendish guise needed to be considered carefully.

“He is my salvation.” Jeritza leaned back, his eyes rolling into his skull. “The vanquisher of what dwells within. Through his sword, both of the Goddess and not I shall finally meet my end.”

His deathwish was not surprising, but the suddenness of his acceptance was. “You got all that from one battle?”

“That is not the first time he and I have crossed blades; no, half a year hence he drew his blade upon me and I nearly met my match in his lovely embrace. The dance of death that would consume monsters such as he and I.”

“Monster?”

“There is a demon that lurks in his heart as much as mine and the prince of Faerghus. When it is released, when these vestiges of humanity that restrain us are finally broken he shall drive that sword point within and at last will I know bliss.”

The smile on the professor’s face in the Mausoleum was not a trick of the light or her imagination. He’d enjoyed going into combat with the Death Knight. Jeritza’s assessments of others were keen, yet here it felt wrong. “You do not have my permission to die yet, Hrym. Nor do you have orders to harm him lest he endanger you.”

“Yes… Princess.”

* * *

“Constance, a word?”

“Why, yes, Your Highness! You may have as many words as you need!”

“This is not about your House.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

Why must everyone be so difficult? “You were enrolled at the Officers Academy previously, and during that time you engaged with the professor, correct?” “Yes, Your Highness.” “What was he like back then?”

“That is…” Constance seemed to fumble. “He was, to say it bluntly, a bore.”

“A boar?” Like Dimitri. Doubling down on Jeritza’s concerns.

“Yes, he was such a dreadfully dull person.” Oh, that type of bore. “Without a thought of his own. He would follow along with his father and do whatever task was required mindlessly. No matter what he did he succeeded in it. He whalloped the students on the training grounds forthright at all times. All without a flicker of emotion on his face.”

“Exactly the same as he is now.”

“Why, heavens no!” she rose. “The man before us these days is as if a stranger to the him of the past. Talking, questioning, asking. Straightforward and honest yet keen in understanding and accepting. The man prior would have culled us of Abyss without a thought, yet now he extends a hand of friendship and kindness?” Constance mumbled. “It is like he’s a different person entirely.”

Could he…? No. Impossible. “The first time we met he charged ahead like he was a minecart on rails. Cutting down bandits effortlessly or toying with them to let us get experience in. Yet even still, he threw himself into danger with reckless cause to protect me. He easily could have died...” 

“Goodness! He has my thanks! The Byleth I knew wouldn’t have spared a second thought to saving another. They had this nickname for him: the ‘Ashen Demon’. Quite apt at the time, I thought.”

“But now?”

“Why it almost seems insulting. He may not be a bundle of emotions but there’s a heart there where there was none.”

A heart… “Thank you, Constance.”

“I do hope that thanks extends to something far more promising in the future!”

“It might.” Should her path succeed then people like Constance would be necessary.

* * *

One person left. The biggest one.

She entered the captain’s office on the second floor. There was some weariness on the captain’s face, and surprise at seeing her, but he asked, “Do you need something, Your Highness?”

“Forgive me if I’m interrupting.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

She could feel it, like rumbles through her blood. The Major Crest of Seiros the man possessed. Like so many other knights she passed through the halls. Yet none seemed aware she knew this. Perhaps her Crest of Flames made her more sensitive to the feel of others’ Crests. But that curiosity could wait, she had questions that needed answers. “I would like to speak to you about your son.”

“If this is about his Crest or the sword I have no idea.” He started to glare at her. “If you really want to know about him you should ask him yourself.”

“I intend to, but I’d like a father’s perspective on his son.”

That caused a bit of a smile for the man. “That’s a subject a lot of people want to avoid.”

“Not one I understand, myself.”

“Trust me, you’re one of the few he’s ever thrown himself into danger like that to protect.”

“Is that flattery?”

“No, it’s thanks. Never thought I’d see the day. Dunno what it is but he’s changing because of you brats. Errrr, students. Maybe you don’t see it, but I do.”

What had caused this change? Could it be her?

No, that would be absurd.

Because their Crests were right there. Burning within.

“If someone like him is capable of change then that is a great hope for the future.” If it was possible for him to change even further… It could be a hope for all of Fodlan.

“Here’s to the future!” Jeralt feigned a glass raise. “Hope he’s teaching you kids plenty. And I hope you’ll keep teaching him back.”

She feigned a glass raise of her own. “To the future then.”

* * *

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

Byleth practically ambushed her outside the office.

“Certainly, my teacher.”

The gazebo was dressed in ribbons of red and flowers of white. The surrounding garden free of any other soul. Tea already set and boiled and waiting.

The waft of tea pleased her palate. A delightful flora scent. Familiar. Lovely. “Bergamont again.” she said. His eyes were always keenly aware but she’d never told him. Or let it slip to anyone save Hubert. She took a sip of the sharp citrusy flavor. Warmed to perfection she had to keep herself from emptying the cup like a dullard. “It can’t be easy affording such a fine tea every time you invite me.”

“I’ve money in reserve.”

“Did you wish to discuss something, my teacher?”

“Did you?”

Did he hear? Of course, who wouldn’t? It was the talk of the monastery, after all. “Of course. Your attack on that Death Knight was reckless and absurd.”

“That?” She actually managed to catch him off guard. “It was the safest measure.”

“Even if we assume he was lying about pursuit, it would have been better to confront him with our full strength instead of you engaging him alone.”

“No, that would have caused greater losses than relying on your leaderships on the flanks. I alone was enough.” 

He truly did not think we would lose. “Your confidence is inspiring, my teacher. But you sound almost arrogant.” Or would if he had a tone.

“The Knights of Seiros are the strongest in the land and I am stronger than any one of them.” He sipped his tea.

There was not a hint of ego in it. He had absolute confidence he was the strongest person in Fodlan. Count Bergliez. Thunderstrike Cassandra. General Holst. Even his own father. It was unbelievable in a sense. “It must be very lonely there.” Her sympathy struck from the same place.

“I suppose…?” He almost seemed confused by the notion.

Did he not…? “You do understand what loneliness means, right, my teacher?” He was surprisingly naive in some ways. Unfortunately so in others.

“I have always been surrounded by people.”

That’s not what she meant. “Come, have you ever had a day out with a friend?”

“I have done much with my allies.”

She had to stop a frown now. “I do not mean mere battlefield allies, my teacher. Surely there is someone here you could count as a friend. Someone to consider an equal.”

“No. Never,” he said without hesitation.

It was like talking with… herself. “All right then, to pay you back for the tea we’re going to visit the town. Together, just the two of us.”

He stared blankly for a moment before saying, “This won’t improve your grades.”

She giggled. “Then I’ll just study harder.”

She hurried through her tea, returned the set with him and practically dragged him south through the gates and down to the town. The streets below thick with midday shoppers and travelers.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“We’re just walking. Looking.”

“For what?”

“For whatever catches our eye.”

“OK?” Confused, even if he didn’t look like it.

They busied themselves around the lower levels of Garreg Mach. Book stores, sweets shops, a local armorer all piqued her interest. But nothing from her professor. “Do you not any interests, my teacher?” They passed a tea shop. That should have done something.

“I would have already gone, if so.”

If this was him after he changed, how was he like before they’d met? “Al right then, before we graduate, I promise you, I’ll find something that you’ll like.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you. And I would like to repay you for what you did for me in Remire.”

“If you can find that... I would like that.”

She gave him a smile. “I’ll do my best, my teacher.” She could do no less.

  
  


**Verdant Rain Moon 2**

It wasn’t even dawn when a knock troubled him from slumber and he was summoned before Rhea and Seteth in the chamber. Was it war? Had the Western Church marched openly?

“Professor,” Rhea’s countenance had darkened like the night, “we have a situation of gravest importance.” He’d never see Rhea so disturbed. “A Hero’s Relic has been stolen by one not bearing a Crest.”

“A Black Beast.”

“I’ll handle it.” Only he could.

“It is not so simple,” Seteth interjected. “This Relic has not simply been purloined from a vault, it is the cornerstone of a massive rebellion.”

“What rebellion?”

“Whilst the pious of the Holy Kingdom were traveling south to participate in the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth, a Duscur Repentance Brigade attacked and sacked the manse of Margrave Gautier. They stole the Lance of Ruin, turned northward and unified with all the other Duscur troops in the region.”

Sylvain’s father. Sylvain’s Relic. Dedue’s people. “Regent Rufus has sent a call to arms and the Central Army of the Kingdom is marching north to contain this rebellion.”

“But if the Lance of Ruin ruptures…”

“They will be slaughtered.”

No, if Cassandra was there… “I will retrieve the Relic posthaste. I’ll speak to Manuela and Hanneman about taking over my schedule ‘til I return.”

“Hold, child,” said Rhea. “This is not simply a matter for yourself. Sword of the Creator or no you cannot do this alone. Your students and an assignment of knights will accompany you.”

“That will put them in danger.”

“Yes, but danger is a station that must be shared upon times. The risk to you alone is too great.”

No it wasn’t. “I will not condone this.”

“What?” A twist of surprise dominated them both.

“A Black Beast is not something for students to cross. It’s too dangerous.”

“No, dear child, that is a reason to do so. Let the students learn the fate of those who would seek to use the goddess’s power without providence. The fate of all those who would misuse her power. Who would oppose you.”

He matched eyes with her. A shield of green unmovable to any words he could offer. “I understand, Lady Rhea. Might I bring the Blue Lions in to this? It concerns their country.”

Relief flooded her face. “Do as you must. We will open the full contents of the armory in preparation for this month’s task.”

“Gilbert will be assigned to your expedition as well. His familiarity with Faerghus shall prove invaluable, I am certain.”

Or troublesome with the Lions. “What of my father?”

“Jeralt shall be taking lead in handling the Western Church.”

“I understand. When must we depart?”

“The Kingdom will be commencing its purge on the 31st. Make your departure days before then.”

“The 25th then.” That would give him the time he needed.

“May the goddess protect you.” Rhea’s words trailed him as he left to solitude.

_Why did you not ask?_ Sothis spoke up the moment she could.

“This was not the time.” Why the coffin of Saint Seiros was empty had to be shelved for now. Lives were at stake.

* * *

“That is… impossible…” Edelgard said what all the Eagles were thinking.

“Stealing a Relic? My my, the Duscur certainly aren’t making it easy on themselves,” said Hubert.

“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on,” said Caspar, “but I don’t think hitting those folks is gonna make it any better.”

“It will not,” said Ferdinand, “but we also cannot let a Relic go like this.”

“Are these ‘Relics’ so powerful?” Petra asked.

“Oh certainly,” said Linhardt. “Why, the professor’s Sword there could split a mountain in half. Or so the legends go.”

“Honestly, “ said Dorothea, “after what he did a few days ago I don’t think he’d need the sword.”

“That was super-scary!” Bernadetta narrowly avoided a scream. “But, ah, that means he’ll never let any bad guys hurt us, right?”

“Of course, Bernadetta,” he answered.

“Yay.”

“We’re going to be cooperating with the Blue Lions for this. I’ll coordinate with Professor Hanneman and his students, so make sure to prepare on your end as well.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Professor?” Edelgard questioned. “This matter may be too dangerous to combine disparate forces.”

“We’ll have to work with the Kingdom army in the first place.”

“I suppose that’s true. Consider my concerns withdrawn.”

“No.” He looked over all of them. “Make sure you all bring up your concerns. They can’t be corrected if you keep them silent.”

“How very noble of you, Professor,” said Ferdinand. “I will say the same! Any of you who have concerns I am here for you as well.”

“Thank you,” said Edelgard. “Both of you. But perhaps this should be saved for later?”

“Oh, very well.”

“

**Verdant Rain Moon 3, Imperial Year 1180**

“Class, a moment of your time,” Professor Hanneman addressed the Blue Lions. “Professor Byleth has an announcement to make regarding the future of both our classes.”

Some of the Lions edged closer in their seats. “The Duscur have risen in rebellion and stolen a Hero’s Relic. The Black Eagles and Blue Lions will be combining forces with the Knights of Seiros and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to retrieve it.”

There was stunned silence a moment before all the discipline that Hanneman was supposed to instill in them was overwrought. “How could this happen?!” Dimitri launched his chair into the desk behind him when he stood up.

“I am unaware of the details.”

“Calm yourself, Your Highness,” Hanneman scolded him. “The professor is as unclear of the specific details as much as any of us.”

“Which army is it that’s going to suppress this,” Sylvain darkly asked.

“The Central Army.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed with scorn. “Miklan.”

“We can’t let that happen, professors!” Dimitri pleaded. “If the Central Army takes the lead it’ll be a massacre!”

“Our objective is to retrieve the Lance of Ruin. Anything further is an overreach of authority,” Byleth answered.

“But the church intervened in Duscur before,” said Dedue. “Could you not again?”

They could. Absolutely. There was nothing stopping him but orders. “I will uphold the orders I’ve given. If those orders change, so will my actions.”

It did not seem to mollify their concerns. “What my colleague is trying to say,” said Hanneman, “is that if Lady Rhea or Seteth wish to, we could take a more… proactive approach in our arrangement with the Kingdom army.”

“Of course,” said Mercedes, “I’m sure if we beseech Lady Rhea she’ll listen to us. She’s such a kind and wonderful person.”

“Can we really make a request to someone as important as Lady Rhea though?” Ingrid nervously brought up.

“Well, maybe not us,” said Annette, “but maybe one of our professors might?” Annette’s smile sheepishly moved between them both.

“You certainly helped with Lonato, Professor,” Ashe added.

He could. He could do that. He didn’t have a reason to do so. Or not to it.

Hmmm. Not acting under orders was difficult. Just acting in the best interests of the Broken Blade was much easier than this.

“I will do what I can,” he responded.

There was a fountain of relief and cheers for him for saying something so simple. It was so strange.

**Verdant Rain Moon 4, Imperial Year 1180**

“I am afraid I cannot condone such an action.”

Rhea’s words were accompanied with a look of sorrow. “Relations with the north are tense enough. To retrieve the Relic is entirely within our jurisdiction. Anything further would be seen as an overreach of authority.”

“The goddess’s authority is absolute.”

“That it is. Should it come to that we will remind the regent who is her will upon this earth. But we must not stoke conflicts we could otherwise avoid.”

For the future. “Rufus will not be regent forever.”

“I see,” said Seteth, “Encouraging better relationships with the prince, is your goal?”

“He will be king longer.”

“Sacrificing short-term stability for long-term benefit has its merits, I agree.”

“However,” said Rhea, “that future is not set in stone either. It is not a risk we should take.”

That was it then. “I understand, Lady Rhea. I will make sure the students are aware of this.”

“See that you do.”

They did not take it well.

But they took it. With scorn and fear in their eyes they accepted it.

  
  
  


**Verdant Rain Moon 25, Imperial Year 1180**

Edelgard finished spading the evacuated plots in the greenhouse and stood up to let her back rest for a spell. Her eyes drifted over her workload, the cart filled with fruits and vegetables to be distributed to the dining hall for their delicacies. It was fine work, even if it seemed utterly bizarre for someone of her status to be doing something so common. But that was the Church of Seiros. Even in the smallest things they exuded their presence and dominion.

She nodded off to the dayteller who took off with the newest load as she retrieved a flask of water. Between all the harvesting and gardening with two layers of clothes she was going to be a sweaty mess by the end of it. But that was the price she had to pay to keep her skin a secret.

Only a few others left this late were still bothering with the gardening. Some church staff she wasn’t familiar with, the greenhouse keeper and Dedue from the Blue Lions. Professor Hanneman’s assignment had left him away from Dimitri’s side for the day. Something the boy hadn’t complained about but the alacrity with which he worked spoke to his true intentions. But he’s been left to manage the largest plots all by himself, while everyone else worked in tandem.

Even with it being so blatantly obvious the Duscur weren’t responsible they were still shunned. Even had she not known the true perpetrators.

“Let me give you a hand,” she called out to the kneeling Dedue.

“That will not be necessary,” he replied.

“It’s no trouble, I assure you.”

“Royalty should not spend their time digging in the dirt.”

“I suppose you said the same to Dimitri when you were assigned to weeding?”

“Ashe would have been a better choice.”

Even if he wasn’t of Fodlan his mindset had already been twisted horribly by the nature of nobility. What a shame. But here she was lamenting a life she would one day take. “How I spend my time is my own affair.” Edelgard set herself up next to him and began working in concert.

“I told you this is not necessary.”

“Perhaps not, but I wish to do so anyway.”

“Do as you wish.” His tone was sharper than any she’d ever heard from his stoic lips.

“Is it because I am Imperial?”

His silence was all the answer she needed. “I see. I understand why. We are the most obvious perpetrators when your people are discounted.”

“I am not going to speak of this.”

Why was she doing this? To assuage her own feelings of what to come? Or what came to pass? “Whoever was behind such a deplorable incident will be brought to justice one day. Of that I have no doubt.”

Dedue continued to work in the soil without further word and without further word Edelgard followed along.

  
  
  


**Verdant Rain Moon 26, Imperial Year 1180**

“It’s about time we finally got time alone,” Felix spoke to him. “I’ve been wanting to test your blade for months now but you’ve always been busy.”

“Not that busy. You could have interrupted.”

“I’ve gotten enough lectures on my mannerisms to bore me for a lifetime and I’ve little reason to get another. Fight me already.”

Well, if he insisted.

Felix was fast and deadly accurate and no slouch in the power department either. He quickly shifted from attacks to feints and it didn’t take long before Byleth fell into a defensive stance just to keep up with the swings. He even had a good handle on his grip and breathing so he couldn’t wait him out. He’d have to put some effort into this.

Felix prepared a quick overhead slash and Byleth locked his guard to blade. Felix pulled back but Byleth kept pace and kept their blades locked. Felix halted and stepped in but Byleth was half a measure faster and snuck his boot under Felix’s The unsteady balance threw him off for a split second allowing Byleth to jab his blade up and bring edge to neck.

“Not the swordplay lesson I expected.”

“Footwork is an essential part of swordplay.”

“Indeed. I’ll not make such a mistake twice however. Let’s go again.”

So much like Glenn. The second time Byleth

“You fight like no other knight here. All their stances, all their swings are so perfunctory. You’ve lived here all your life yet you exude a difference. Why?”

Byleth shrugged. “I was always different.”

“Bah, that answer is too simple. No, it’s like there’s something else. A hunger for victory? No.” Felix’s eyes narrowed and nearly did the cock-sure look on his face fade. “Again.”

Felix batter him with blows aplenty.

“Hmph.” All the good countenance had disappeared. “I see it now. You’re just like the boar.”

“What?”

“You’re putting on airs. Not taking this seriously.” 

“It’s a spar.”

“It’s more than that. You’re making sport of us. Not simply because you’re better. But because you’re so much better you don’t need to take us seriously. Holding back your bloodthirst. How did Glenn not see this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

_Surely he cannot be speaking of me, can he?_ said Sothis.

“At least the boar acknowledges his beastly behavior. Your reins will come off someday, that mask you wear will shatter. The bodies will be plenty indeed. And I’ve no interest in seeing that happen.” Felix walked away, eyes wary and watching him all that way.

_He has quite the tongue, doesn’t he?_

It was saying something that was one of the most confusing things in his life and he could rewind time and speak to the goddess directly.

**Verdant Rain Moon 28, Imperial Year 1180**

It was time. Time to put his brothers to the sword. Be the weapon he existed to be. This was the day he was brought into this world and it would be the day he made so many of his brothers leave it. Be the weapon he existed to be.

He honed his edge alone on the training grounds. Severing the heads of a dozen training dummies. It would be this easy soon enough. Do it quickly and cleanly. Minimize the pain and suffering. Do not harbor any hope of letting them escape. Not with a Relic. They wouldn’t get to live after stealing a Relic.

He set up the next dozen dummies but spotted someone lurking in the shadows. “Do you need something?”

Edelgard’s ominous servant stepped from the darkness between the pillars. A look of indifference shot at him but an eye that said otherwise. “You’ve done admirable work on these targets.”

“If you are here to comment on my training I am not interested.”

“That is not solely what interests me. Today is the day we march to subjugate your people. The same as Faerghus did eight years ago and you volunteer. How does that make you feel, I wonder.”

“What I feel is no business of yours.”

“On the contrary, it entirely is. If you give in to the cause of home, turn against us and raise your arms against Lady Edelgard it will be I who is forced to remove you from this life.”

“That will not happen.”

“Just as Faerghus would never march into your country and reduce it to rubble? This world does not deal in absolutes. Should you turn against us and threaten Lady Edelgard it will be by my hand you are removed from this world.”

“And should you ever threaten His Highness my ax will do the same.”

“I’ll hold you to that. After all, your brothers will be threatening him soon enough.” The man walked off with a dark chuckle.

Dedue buried his ax in the dummy’s head. He was prepared to do whatever it took for the sake of Duscur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter with no editing. Won't be able to finish this month off before NaNo starts so no clean slate.
> 
> Also I was furloughed. So, I also need to look for another job.
> 
> Great...
> 
> And the scariest day of the year is still coming up too.


	12. UPDATE 1-22-21

Huh?

It's January 22nd? 2021? That can't be good.

Yeah, so hi folks, been a while. Or less if you're on the Edelgard subreddit or Edelgard discord which you're not because no one there reads my stuff lol.

Anyway, still alive, first off. Didn't manage to get a job until the end of November. And even then it's only part-time minimum wage so... flat-out barely earned enough for Rent alone off that much less the rest of necessities. The money I had saved from my first job covered November, but for December and January I had to borrow from my brother.

Actual good news is my first job came back with a new opportunity and I've actually got all my January bills paid and enough money for Febuary's rent. Also good news is that job will let me write for Ashen Wake while I'm on the clock so hey! Progress.

Bad news it's only gonna be for three months. Hopefully the first job I was doing for the company comes back by then... otherwise I hope to have enough saved to not need to borrow every month to not die.

Due to the sheer nonsense behind my situation I can't rely on the stimulus checks either.

Nor can I launch a p-a-t-r-e-o-n. I simply put, have absolutely nothing to offer for patrons. It's illegal for fanfic; my original fiction wouldn't be interesting and me reviewing/summerizing old Voltron wasn't interesting to people during the craze for it.

So to not end on more bad news during November I did more-or-less complete the overarching plots of the Ashen Wake, including its ending. Part... 3 will be its own fic, like now. I'll be trying to go back and edit the mess of chapters that didn't get the attention they deserve when I can too.

'Til whenever!


	13. Chapter 13

Hey guess what state I'm in that got hit by power outages! Mine!

I only got hit two days and since I'm initially from far colder I just laughed off the whole situation but Texas infrastructure did not. So now I'm flat-out missing a week's pay on my good job. A day on my stocking job but whatever.

My computer monitor broke - I'm now using an old TV to type and everything's pixalated to all hell.

This of course, all happens just as I'm trying to buy a new TV and TV stand.

Also my brother's house collapsed.

Yeah. That's far more important than my bitching.

FUCKING HELL.

So now I want to help him out, but again, gonna be missing a week of pay on my good job! I at least have some saved up but ughhhhhhh. Why just as things were finally looking up for once.


End file.
